


Countdown!

by fmlyhntr, jamelia116, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [15]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Going Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmlyhntr/pseuds/fmlyhntr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: With all systems ready to go, it's time for Voyager to go home!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> While we were preparing to post "Countdown!" on Archive of Our Own, we thought we would add a few scenes to the version that was posted in 2001 on a now defunct website and ASC. The bridge scene at the beginning of Act 2, for instance, hadn't been depicted, although the events clearly happened or the rest of the story wouldn't have existed. One added scene led to another, and then another, and what was once a 10,000 word story is now almost 26,000 words in length. (Jamelia must admit that's not unusual when she's involved.)
> 
> Please think of these new scenes as "bonus material," like those found on an extended edition DVD--fitting perhaps, since this episode served as our "first season finale."
> 
> We must thank Sara for co-writing the original story. Thank you so much Sara. We wish to express our gratitude to Rocky_T for her eagle eyes and painstaking attention to detail, invaluable during the editing process. Bravo, Rocky! We'd also like to give a shout-out to Memory Alpha, a great online resource to consult when you want to uncover the little details about the Star Trek universe that help bring a story to life. 
> 
> We would not have this universe to enjoy without Gene Roddenberry's creative vision or the hard work of the production staff, writers, and actors of Star Trek: Voyager and the other Star Trek series. Together, they developed that vision into this wonderful alternate reality. And last, but certainly not least, we must include that all important disclaimer: we gratefully acknowledge Paramount, et.al. are the true owners of Star Trek. This is their playground. Thank you for letting us play with your toys.

**Prologue**  
  
Chakotay forced himself to relax as the Captain continued the preflight check. She was so calm, only the hint of a smile on her face gave away her excitement and anxiety. "Zornon shield status?"  
  
The young cadet at the science station turned to face her. "Ready, Captain," Icheb said.  
  
"Excellent, prepare to engage. Engineering, the transwarp coil?"  
  
_"We're ready down here, Captain,"_ B'Elanna's voice said.  
  
Janeway glanced at Chakotay, "Ready, Commander?"  
  
"As ready as I'll ever be," Chakotay answered. He smiled at her and considered reaching out and touching her hand, but she chose that moment to walk away. "Systems check." He glanced around the ship as each person spoke.  
  
"Captain, temporal stabilizer checks out," Sarexa said. Despite her shyness with the crew, she had the Borg’s knowledge of transwarp, so had volunteered to be on the bridge.  
  
"All systems nominal." Harry was making no attempt to hide his excitement. A huge smile revealed his optimism.  
  
"Computer, record that at fourteen hundred hours on Stardate 54771.1, the Federation Starship Voyager is prepared to open a transwarp conduit." She smiled at Chakotay, who nodded his head twice. "Engage the shield," Janeway said. They waited several seconds, then a yellow light blinked on Icheb's console.  
  
"The shield is at optimum strength," Icheb said.  
  
"Engage the temporal stabilizer," Chakotay said. The blinking yellow light turned green.  
  
Not even a second later, Janeway spoke, "Bridge to engineering. Begin the transwarp countdown."  
  
_"Very good, Captain. Transwarp countdown is now engaged. Transwarp in three minutes."_ The computer took over the countdown at that point, counting down the seconds.  
  
At two minutes, thirty seconds the ship went to warp 7.6.  
  
At two minutes, the speed increased to warp 8.6.  
  
At one minute, Voyager reached optimum speed of warp 9.7.  
  
At fifty seconds, Chakotay gripped his armrest. This was it. One month of travel in the transwarp conduit, and they would be twenty to twenty-five thousand light years closer to the Alpha-Quadrant.  
  
At forty seconds, Kathryn finally sat down, clasping his hand tightly.  
  
At thirty seconds, the ship started to shudder. This was expected, but he still found his heart racing--though that might also be a result of the fact she was still holding his hand...  
  
Twenty…ten, nine, eight, seven, six...  
  
At five seconds, Chakotay wondered how the rest of the crew felt.  
  
At four seconds, he took a deep breath and held it.  
  
At three seconds, the stars started to blur.  
  
Two...  
  
One.  
  



	2. Act 1

**Act 1 - Stardate 54690.7 (One Day** **After "Datastream Day") Briefing Room**  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant Kim. Commander Tuvok, do you have anything more to report on the restocking of our emergency supplies?"  
  
"Yes, Captain. I am pleased to report that the department has completed the inventory and I am able to confirm that all weapons lockers are now fully restocked, following the recent Borg incursion. With two exceptions, every deck has additional emergency supply units installed in the wall panels, at twenty meter intervals along the corridors, which include enough fully-charged wrist lights for every member of the crew. Each turbolift contains a unit as well. Surplus units are stored in the Mess Hall and the corridors leading to and from the Holodecks, as additional staff may be present at those locations at the time of a power failure. The exceptions are Deck 1 and Deck 15, each of which have three units. Each unit is equipped with a medkit, as well." Tuvok settled back into his chair at the conclusion of his report.  
  
"That's a lot of medkits," Tom Paris observed.  
  
"I suggested that Commander Tuvok add medkits to each unit, instead of only half of them, as had been the previous practice," the Doctor said. "The injuries the crew sustained during our recent encounters with the Borg convinced me that replicating additional kits was a reasonable precaution, given the need for immediate first aid in many situations. The power expenditure to create the kits was minimal in comparison with their value. Quick access can be critical at times, particularly if site-to-site transport should be unavailable. You, of all people, Mr. Paris, should recognize that fact."  
  
"I thought it was an excellent suggestion, Doctor," the captain hastily intervened, to prevent another physician/field medic verbal battle. _Honestly, those two bicker like father and teenaged son sometimes._ Turning her attention back to her Tactical Chief, she added, "Thank you for your report, Commander. Well, does anyone else have anything to add to our agenda this morning?"  
  
"I believe there is one subject we haven't discussed yet, Captain," Chakotay said with a smile. "Lieutenant Torres, did you receive an answer to your letter to Lieutenant Barclay about your experimental propulsion system?"  
  
Everyone around the table chuckled. According to the news that had spread like a plasma fire throughout the Mess Hall the previous evening, it was common knowledge she had indeed received a response. However, as this was the first formal staff meeting after the latest datastream, it needed to be acknowledged and recorded as part of the ship's official record.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I did. Reg...I mean, Lieutenant Barclay, and a group of Starfleet engineers have reviewed our findings. They're all very optimistic it will work. The only thing left for us to do is to test it. And the only way to do _that_ is to completely revamp our warp propulsion system. And then…engage the transwarp."  
  
Kathryn Janeway took a deep breath. This was it. Decision time. "B'Elanna, what's the timetable for implementation--if we decide to proceed?"  
  
B'Elanna glanced towards her husband, where he was sitting across the table from her, too far away for physical contact. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to him, but she took a deep breath of her own before saying, "We should be ready to try it in about a month, Captain. We've tested some of the actual components, but we've never been able to perform any real-world tests. They all were done via simulations on the holodeck. To be able to physically integrate the components, we'll have to come out of warp and put the core on standby status on at least three occasions. It might be a good idea for us to be in orbit around a planet during those times. Preferably uninhabited ones!"  
  
"Ensign Delaney, please make your department aware of the need to identify suitable planets where we could 'take a break' to permit B'Elanna's engineering staff to complete those tasks. If you can locate planets which possess mineral or food resources we can readily access, we can use the down time to forage for supplies."  
  
"I'm sure we'll find some, Captain," Megan replied.  
  
"Does this mean we're going for it, Captain?" Tom asked.  
  
His face had that eager little boy look plastered over it. The captain couldn't help grinning back at him as she said, "I'd say it does! Keep me informed of any issues that may crop up during installation, Lieutenant, but I'd say Project Transwarp is now in full swing."  
  
Muted cheers erupted from Tom and Harry, and almost every face around the table was wreathed in smiles. "Captain, what about the Olympics? Everyone's been working so hard on their events--and we've only just added Sculling and Dressage to our list. But if the return to the Alpha Quadrant is going to happen soon, are we still going to hold the games?" From the solemn expression on the usually ebullient Talaxian's face, the captain knew Neelix would be crushed if the games were cancelled, but his question was a valid one.  
  
"How do the rest of you feel about this? Should we cancel the games?"  
  
"Neelix is right, Captain," Tom said earnestly. "Everyone has been working very hard on their events, I'm sure the crew would be disappointed if we cancelled them."  
  
"Except for the ones you've just stuck on the back of a horse." B'Elanna was speaking at a much lower volume than she usually did, but no one at the table could fail to hear her.  
  
"Does anyone on this ship actually know how to ride a horse?" Commander Chakotay said, grinning broadly.  
  
"Several of the crew have volunteered that they are at least passingly familiar with the equine family," the Doctor confirmed. "How many I'll need to treat with an osteo-regenerator after they compete is another question, of course."  
  
Most of the officers around the table laughed, although the captain didn't. She'd grown up in farming country, and she'd never taken to riding a horse herself. "Well, if there's a chance of injury during that event..."  
  
"We'll have the safeties on whenever we practice and when we compete," Tom said quickly, in the tone of voice he used whenever he was pleading for something. "I'm sure the Doctor is overstating the danger of injury--that is, if we're still holding the games. We do need to take regular physical exercise. The games are good for our cardiovascular health, right, Doc?"  
  
The Doctor reluctantly admitted, "Mr. Paris has a point."  
  
"And just because we'll be arriving in the Alpha Quadrant sooner than anyone expected, it doesn't mean the crew won't need a morale boost. The games could be our last ship-wide social event! We could hold them even after we actually arrive. It's a very big quadrant. We might need to travel a while at regular warp before we get to Earth, and..."  
  
The captain raised her hand to put a stop to his recitation. "That's enough, Mr. Neelix! You don't have to say anything more. Does everyone here agree it would still be a good idea for the crew to hold the Voyager Olympic Games, even if they don't take place until after we've reached the Alpha Quadrant?"  
  
From the smiles and nods of the head from most of them, and a shrug of acceptance from B'Elanna, Kathryn Janeway knew her senior staff was in agreement. "All right. I guess this means the games shall go on. The Commander and I will make an announcement about the institution of the transwarp propulsion system later today, after we've established a new date for the Olympics." Turning to Chakotay, she added, "Join me in my Ready Room to discuss these issues once this meeting is over." He nodded in acquiescence. "Then this meeting is adjourned."  
  
As everyone stood up and started to file out, Tom called out, "Hey, Harry, everyone is talking about your letter from home. Can I guess who it was from?"  
  
Harry good naturedly shook his head. "Yeah, it was more of the same. What about you? I heard you actually received a letter from your mom, the mystery woman you never talk about!"  
  
"I did, Harry. I'll bet I enjoyed my letter a lot more than you did yours!"  
  
"You received a letter this time, Doctor," Megan pointed out. "From your, uh, progenitor..."  
  
"I did. I presume you read the whole thing when it came into Astrometrics?"  
  
"Of course not! That's against regulations..."  
  
"It was a very...informative letter," the Doctor finally said, as he followed Megan out of the room. To Kathryn, the Doctor's smile seemed rather forced--and he didn't even know about that other letter yet!  
  
The room fell into silence as it emptied, leaving only the command staff behind. The captain shook her head. "You know, I really have to tell him about that letter from Mr. Jameson whatever-whatever. If he would just choose a name for himself, I could write back to that publisher and assure him our 'EMH' doesn't have a contract with anyone else!"  
  
"It might be a good idea if we took a good long look at what he plans to submit for publication _before_ you write back to Mr. Jameson-whatever-whatever," Chakotay said.  
  
The captain’s smile felt more like a grimace. "Well, Commander, shall we adjourn to my Ready Room? We have several subjects we need to discuss, not just about our EMH's creative efforts."  
  
  
**Stardate 54691.1 - Captain's Ready Room**  
  
Once they were settled in the seats they normally assumed in her ready room, Chakotay said, "You already told me about that wonderful letter from your mother, and from Mr. Jameson whatever-whatever. But you never told me about any of the others. One came from a Starfleet official. What have you heard? Really?"  
  
She shook her head several times. "Nothing through official channels." She sighed. "The letter from 'Starfleet' was from a very old friend, Daeja Thev, who is teaching at Starfleet Academy. She was my roommate when we studied there. Dae left the service at one point, but they've hauled her back and...wait. Let me just hand you the PADD. I know you don't know her, but maybe you'll see something in it that I missed."  
  
For several minutes she waited while he read the letter. A few times he pursed his lips at what was written, and a few other times his dimples appeared briefly as his swift, charming smile lit up his face. The number of pursed lips far exceeded the number of smiles, unfortunately. She was certain he'd finished reading for at least a minute before he raised his eyes to hers and commented off-handedly, "It sounds like there are some unhappy members of the brass. And I'm willing to bet one of them is named Necheyev."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised. It's so disheartening to hear that no matter what we say or they do, the ‘Equinox Five’ are sure to be court martialed. It isn't fair. And I know, it's just like Tom always says, life isn't fair. But this...well. I guess I can't say I'm surprised. I just wish their current exemplary behavior could mitigate what they did following the orders of superiors when they really had no recourse to do anything else."  
  
"Unfortunately, that's not the way it goes, Kathryn. You know that." He tapped the PADD a few times, alternatively turning it off and on without ever looking down at it. "And what she says about the Maquis...you know it's not a surprise to me. We've talked about this often enough. Some admirals--some people in the Federation--will never forgive us for being right about the threat the Cardassians posed, despite the promises made in the treaty. That treaty was dead in the water seconds after the thing was signed by the Cardassians. And Necheyev. I wonder if she ever thought the peace would hold?"  
  
"I'm sorry to say this about one of my superior officers, but I doubt she even cared. All she cared about was reaching the agreement, and the renown she got in return. She didn’t give a damn about what happened afterward."  
  
"And the colony worlds in the DMZ were wiped out as a result."  
  
Kathryn stared at him; she had no words to dispute his. She'd always known she would show him the letter one day, but she'd hoped they could move on to another subject quickly: like inviting him to spend two weeks at Lake George with her, sailing and eating caramel brownies and doing absolutely nothing else, once they were back on Earth, and after all the uncertainties about everyone's future had been resolved. Or perhaps, to keep it all strictly professional, if they were going to be home in two months or even sooner, she could suggest they needed to burn a lot of midnight oil to make sure all their reports and official logs were in spotless order, so the admirals and their staffs wouldn't find anything to dispute her claim that the Maquis and the Equinox crew deserved to be treated equally with her Starfleet personnel. _God knows, they'll be able to find fault with many of my actions over the past seven years. I certainly bent enough Starfleet protocols; perhaps they’ll make me the scapegoat for all of Voyager’s misdeeds, and leave my crew alone._  
  
Or maybe she should ask him to make good on that promise he once made, to make sure the ship's carpets were clean!  
  
She had no idea what he was thinking, however, because his mouth had suddenly formed itself into a Cheshire Cat grin (fortunately revealing those dimples again and highlighting his chiseled mouth in all its glory). Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. "A penny for your thoughts." She began to chuckle. "Now there's an archaic saying for you! I haven't seen a penny in _years_ , except in a museum--or in my mother's penny jar. She was sure we're going to go back to using money someday, and she wanted to be prepared."  
  
He laughed out loud, and after a short pause, said, "So, 'how dare they call politics a science? It's all a game'?"  
  
She closed her eyes for a moment. "I knew I should have edited that letter before I handed it to you. You'll never let me live that one down!"  
  
"Probably not," he admitted. "So, do you still feel that way?"  
  
"Weren't we just talking about that? To Admiral Alynna Necheyev, politics _IS_ a game. It doesn't bother her if anyone gets hurt by her moves. All she cares about is winning points for herself--and she's too damn good at that, if you ask me."  
  
  
**Stardate 54691.4 - Mess Hall**  
  
Jenny looked up from her PADD and quickly shut it down as her sister Megan Delaney breezed into the Mess Hall. Once she'd placed her laden luncheon tray on the table across from Jenny, Megan waved cheerfully to Gerron, Jor, and Tabor, who were sitting at the next table. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Jen. I had to give Icheb an assignment that Commander Tuvok wants him to fulfill as part of his Starfleet training. I was annoyed, but what could I do? Tuvok didn't care I came in early to make sure the Datastream transmission had finally shut down."  
  
"Is that why you're eating a whole day's worth of food at lunch?"  
  
"Hey, I'm really hungry. I've been stuck in Astrometrics since 0600!" She took a bite of her sandwich. "Mmm. I think I'd even be able to appreciate leola root today, but a BLT really hits the spot. You know, I still can't believe our little Robbie is going to be Robbie the Phud! The way he always used to sneer at us for studying!"  
  
Jenny joined her sister's laughter. If Megan noticed Jenny's wasn't quite as hearty as Megan's, she didn't mention it. Instead, she offhandedly said, "Did you hear what was in Harry's letter?" After Jenny's quick shake of her head, Megan went on, "I could hardly believe it! He got a letter from San Francisco, from a Sunil somebody or other. It had to do with court, or library fines, or something."  
  
"Maybe Harry's in trouble because he didn't report for jury duty?" Jenny said, and both sisters laughed together again. This time, Jenny's merriment was the equal of her twin's.  
  
Jenny took a sip of her iced tea while Megan rapidly finished her sandwich. After Megan took a large mouthful of her fruit salad, she went on, "The captain received a letter from Starfleet, too."  
  
"Really? I haven't heard anything at all about that. Who was it from?  
  
"From someone named Daeja Thev. She's a JAG officer."  
  
"What did it say?"  
  
"I didn't read it, Jenny! That's against regulations! I just thought it was interesting that she received one from someone other than Admiral Paris this time. Most of her letters from Starfleet come from him."  
  
While Megan continued eating, Jenny played with the leftover _gorp_ -fruit marmalade she'd scraped off her bread. It had the oddest flavor, something resembling a combination of stale fish and salty oranges. She looked up and saw Megan had stopped eating and was staring at her. Jenny tried to divert her by speculating, more seriously this time, "Maybe Harry's letter says he'll be arrested when he gets home."  
  
"Who, Harry? He's probably never even had a late library book!" They laughed again, but this time, it was barely a chuckle. Megan looked shrewdly at Jenny and said, "You're not still obsessing over that letter from StarFleet Advanced Command College, are you?"  
  
"What can I say? It upset me."  
  
Megan leaned over and looked at the PADD next to Jenny’s plate. "Is that the letter? You're not walking around showing it to everyone, are you?"  
  
"No, no, I was just reading it again while I was waiting for you."  
  
Megan grabbed the PADD and turned it on, grumbling. "They can’t even spell your name right. You really want to attend this particular school?"  
  
"It’s got a really good reputation." Megan just glared at her. Jenny went on, "I know it’s not the _only_ command school in the Federation…it’s just. Damn it Megan! Did you actually read it?"  
  
"Yes, since you forced me to," she said, as she glanced down at the letter. "This Doctor Captain Leo Thicknesse is as thick as his name." With a dramatic flourish of her hand, Megan began to read it. Jenny tried to shush her sister. She was reading so loudly, Neelix and Sarexa, who were in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch, could probably hear every word..  
  
_" 'Lieutenant J.G. Jennifer Elizabeth Delaney'--_ that’s Elisabeth with a Z! Maybe if he learned to read, he’d notice it’s spelled with an S in your letter!"  
  
"It’s a losing battle," Jenny said. "I stopped fighting it a long time ago."  
  
"I’ve noticed." Megan’s attention went back to the PADD and started to read again, " ' _We appreciate your interest in StarFleet Advanced Command College. Only the best are admitted to our campus. We follow a rigorous admission protocol (see attachment 1.3A-D and attachment 5). Please review these protocols before making a formal request for review. If and when USS Voyager does return to Federation Territory, we require attachments 7 and 9 to be submitted within 10 days of said return, and your formal application within 3 months of discharge from the ship.' "_ Megan shook her head. "Piling it on a bit thick, isn’t he?"  
  
"Keep reading. I didn’t notice it the first time I read it, but it's there," Jenny said in a hushed voice. She waved a hand to try to get her sister to read more quietly, but Megan obviously didn’t notice.  
  
_" 'It is unfortunate that we could not send the entire SFACC application packet at this time. The SFACC does offer an off campus program. However, upon reviewing your current status and assignment, including commanding officers, we have determined that your situation does not meet the high standards we require. The SFACC requires officers be of high moral character, and a thorough background check of you, your friends, and associates will be conducted when you apply._  
  
" 'Thank you for your interest in StarFleet Advanced Command College,  
  
" 'Doctor Captain Leo Thickness MS PhD' "  
  
Megan read last few paragraphs twice, then stopped. "Oh? Our current situation doesn't meet their 'high moral standards'? Who does this guy think he is?"  
  
Jenny nodded, then whispered so only her sister could hear, "We weren’t exactly of high moral character back then...”  
  
Megan handed the PADD back to her sister. "No, but a great many Admirals probably weren’t either. And some still aren’t. Don’t worry, there are other schools. I've heard that Sandhurst has a campus on Mars now--and I don’t want you to end up as officious as this Thicknesse character."  
  
*  
  
Caught up as they were in their mutual obsession with Jenny's letter--not that Megan would admit that she was obsessing about it as much as her sister was--neither of the Delaney sisters paid attention to Gerron, Jor, and Tabor, who were sitting at the next table. Gerron glanced down at his plate of whatever Neelix was serving today and frowned. Leaning towards the couple across from him, he murmured, "Being stationed on Voyager was good enough for two long-distance Academy cadets, but not a potential commanding officer?"  
  
Tabor nodded. "Good for Jenny for dreaming big, but those references to moral character and high standards? That has to mean Starfleet doesn't think the Maquis are appropriate associates for a future command officer."

“What are you talking about?” Jor said. “The Delaneys are regular Starfleet. Neither of them was ever in the Maquis."  
  
“The problem isn’t that Jenny was a Maquis. One of her commanding officers is,” Gerron said in a low voice.  
  
"Even after all our years of service, Starfleet still looks down on us. And you know they're going to throw the book at the Equinox people," Tabor said, equally softly. "I'm not surprised; are you? I never believed things were going as well as everyone thought. And it will be worse once we get home. If squeaky clean Harry Kim is going to be arrested when we get back, what chance do the rest of us have?"  
  
"And that letter from Starfleet to the captain. I wonder if she's ever going to tell us what that was all about?" Jor added.  
  
All three quickly glanced around the Mess Hall. Gerron wondered if anyone else had heard anything about what was going to happen to the Maquis. Starfleet knew they were running transwarp drive trials. That meant they would be back in the Alpha Quadrant soon, so they clearly would have to come to a decision about the Maquis soon, if they hadn’t already. Chakotay probably knew something, but Gerron knew he wouldn't tell. He was too tight with the captain. B'Elanna? Married to an admiral's son? No chance. Mariah, maybe? If anyone might know something, it would be Mariah Henley. She had connections to Starfleet, too.  
  
As Gerron was thinking about who to ask about this next, he noticed Mike Ayala enter the Mess Hall. Gesturing to Ayala to join his former crewmates from the Freedom at his table and exchanging social greetings, Gerron leaned closer to his fellow Maquis and whispered, "Mike, do you know what I just heard?"  
  
****  
  



	3. Act 1 (continued)

  
****  
  
Stardate 54701.2 - (4 days Post Transwarp Authorization) - Engineering  
  
"Hey, Joe!" Carey turned at the sound of Tom's voice.  
  
"Tom, do you have a death wish or something?" After Joe jumped back as if he was about to be attacked, Tom glanced at his wife's office door and wondered just how bad B’Elanna's mood had been today. Her mood sometimes swung fairly swiftly from sweet to, "don't even try to talk to me now," but she hadn't exploded since before she began her mid-trimester "mellow period." Was that about to change?  
  
When Joe saw Tom's reaction, he reassured him. "Oh, sorry, Tom. B'Elanna went on the warpath this morning, but she's doing better now. She's in her office with Icheb and Sarexa. They're analyzing all the data from our transwarp simulations and finalizing the installation schedule."  
  
Vorik waved from the catwalk, then called for Joe to come to the upper level. Before he went to join Vorik, Joe gave Tom an exaggerated wink. Puzzled, Tom watched Joe ascend in the lift. As Tom walked towards his wife's office, he hoped she was in a cooperative mood. Fortunately, they had less than two months to go in her pregnancy. It was all going to be over soon. He smiled at the very thought of being a father.  
  
Tom was about to open B'Elanna's office door when Crewman Edwin Carlson stepped right in front of him and asked "So, have you heard?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks, but Joe's already warned me she's been on the warpath this morning."  
  
Carlson laughed, but Tom couldn't detect any humor in it as Carlson shook his head. "No, I want to know if you've heard anything about Janeway's letter."  
  
Tom shook his head. "What letter?"  
  
Carlson frowned. "I've heard from several people that the Captain received a letter saying that the Maquis won't be pardoned. They want our skins, don't they?"  
  
"I haven't heard anything like that," Tom said, again shaking his head. "I don't think the Captain will let the Maquis spend any time in prison." He placed a hand on Carlson's shoulder. "Haven't you heard? We beat the Borg! We're heroes!" He liked the sound of that. He'd never even expected a second chance--let alone the chance to become a hero.  
  
Carlson backed away. "Tom, your dad's an admiral. You'll get some cushy job teaching at the Academy. The rest of us will be tossed out on our ears with nowhere to go. I heard they won't even pay us for our time out here."  
  
"That's bullshit."  
  
"I don't think so, but I guess we'll find out." Carlson marched away as soon as B'Elanna opened the door of her office. Tom heard a distinct growl issuing out of his beloved's clenched lips, prompting Carlson to look uneasily over his shoulder and hurry away at a fast pace. Sarexa and Icheb hurriedly left her office, barely taking the time to wave to Tom.  
  
_Uh-oh. Have we reached the third trimester wild-and-crazy Klingon stage?_ Tom thought, but then he remembered that Sarexa and Icheb had been grinning as they'd slipped out of B'Elanna's office. Perplexed, Tom turned away from the retreating former Borg and looked into his wife's face. His B'Elanna was smiling impishly up at him.  
  
"Ignore Carlson," B'Elanna said as she kissed Tom on the cheek. "He's been grouchy all day. So, why are you here?"  
  
"We did agree to meet for dinner tonight," he said, as he smiled at her.  
  
"We did? You know, I'm not sure I can get away right now. Icheb, Sarexa and I have been going over the data from the transwarp coil sensor simulations. We have to decide whether to install the sensors before or after the Zornon shield."  
  
"B'Elanna," Tom said with exaggerated patience. "Maybe you didn't notice, but Sarexa and Icheb have already gone. And _you_ have to eat..."  
  
"Because I'm eating for two now. I know, I know. Between you and the Doctor, I'd be as big as a small moon right now if I ate as much as you two keep telling me to."  
  
"Umm...maybe, just maybe now, uh, perhaps-it's-time-for-you-to-talk-to-the-Captain-about-taking-medical-leave." Tom spilled it all out in a rush.  
  
"I am NOT going to take a leave of absence! The Doctor says it's not necessary. Should the situation change, I'm sure he'll tell me--and everyone else, too." She took his hand. "But, I _am_ hungry... _We_ are hungry. Maybe it won't hurt if I stop and eat something." She dragged him toward the lift. Tom was astounded at how quickly she could move, despite her advancing pregnancy.  
  
After the lift doors closed behind them, Tom asked, "What's this rumor Edwin's griping about?"  
  
She kissed him before pulling away. "You can't be the Tom Paris I know and love. That Tom would definitely know all about the rumors." She kissed him quickly again, then again, this time, much more slowly.  
  
When they came up for air, he said, "I definitely feel like I'm that Tom Paris. I'm certainly reacting like your husband." He wrapped his arms around her as he returned her kiss. "There must be another reason I haven't paid attention to any rumors."  
  
She stepped back and smiled coquettishly. "I wonder what that might be? You're usually so on top of them." She frowned. "The rumor Carlson is bothering everyone about involves a letter the captain supposedly received. Something about how she shouldn't be so confident the Maquis will be pardoned." B'Elanna shrugged. "But then, there's also a rumor that Harry received a court summons."  
  
"Harry? Mr. Straight Arrow? He's probably never even had an overdue library book, let alone done something that would get him arrested."  
  
He leaned over and kissed her. She playfully shoved him away as the lift door opened. "By the way, after our daughter is born, I'm thinking about becoming celibate."  
  
He rushed out after her. "Are you SURE you don't need to take that medical leave? I mean, third trimester mood swings and all? The Doc's told you about those, I'm sure."  
  
When she began to giggle, Tom was certain his wife must have reached wild-and-crazy time; but then she pulled him to the side of the corridor and whispered, "I'm fine. No mood swings at all. I admit I jumped all over Carlson this morning, but only after he barged into my office for the third time wanting to talk about the rumor. And I think I would have kept it together then, except Vorik had already shown up twice to ask me about trivialities only a Vulcan engineer would even _think_ about asking their supervisor about. Everyone else would just check the calibration and go on with what they were doing. Anyway, I did lose my temper at Carlson then, but it had nothing to do with being pregnant! In fact, I probably would have come off more the angry Klingon if I weren't still feeling that mid-trimester mellowness. No, after I chased Carlson out of my office, Joe came in to talk to me, and to Sarexa and Icheb, about what the problem was. So I told him."  
  
Tom arched his right eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. He still didn't know what she was getting at. She spared him one of her patented, "Oh, you poor dense man" looks she gave him every time he ran off at the mouth about one of his obsessions. She added, in an even lower tone of voice, "After I explained things to Joe, he told me he'd take care of it. And he went out to Carlson, Vorik, and everyone else who was around and told them this ghastly story about how his wife Anne became such a wild banshee--whatever that is--during the third trimesters of her pregnancies, he had to duck every time he came in the door to make sure she wasn't going to throw something at him. So they all had to be very, very careful not to upset me. Unless it's for a real emergency, they should come to him or the other shift supervisors with their problems first. And everyone has been tiptoeing around me ever since."  
  
"So _that's_ why Joe winked at me after he told me you were on the warpath? And why Icheb and Sarexa grinned at me while they were scuttling out of your office, like they were trying to escape a wounded bear in her den?"  
  
"Exactly," she said with a grin. "Although I didn't see them scuttle out. And I'm not sure I'm happy about that wounded bear reference. Maybe I _should_ become celibate after our baby girl gets here."  
  
Tom gave her a little cuddle. "Sorry. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. I'm sure it was a teddy bear they were running away from. So what you're telling me is that all you have to do until you get this drive installation schedule figured out is to growl every now and then? And have a hissy fit when someone starts acting stupid around you?"  
  
"I knew there was a reason I married you, Flyboy. You're pretty quick, not to mention pretty sweet, when you want to be." They walked down the corridor a few steps, but then she added with a little growl, "but don't push your luck."  
  
"Got it," he replied, raising his hands to indicate submission.  
  
The pair were still sauntering slowly down the corridor towards the Mess Hall, now arm in arm, when they heard light footsteps approaching them from behind. They turned around and saw Jamie McMinn, who was on Tom's Olympic team, coming rapidly towards them. As soon as she was close enough, Tom said to Jamie in a bright, hopefully encouraging tone of voice, "Ah, Jamie! Good to see you. I hope practice has been going well."  
  
Jamie groaned, "I fell on my butt three times, Tom. That horse hates me."  
  
"Jamie, it's a holographic construct."  
  
"It certainly smells, feels, and acts like a real horse. Can't you find someone who can actually ride to be in this stupid Dressage event?"  
  
"Jamie, you're the only one who admits to ever being near a horse, let alone ride one."  
  
"I rode in a carriage in Paris once. That doesn't make me an expert!" She continued hopefully, "I hear no team has anyone who can ride. Do you think maybe we can just cancel the Dressage event?"  
  
"Nah, no chance. Where's your sense of adventure?"  
  
"The Delta Quadrant has cured me of my sense of adventure, thank you very much. When we get home, I'm going to find a cabin up in the woods and become a hermit. B'Elanna, why aren't you getting on a horse for this event? Like Tom says, it's just a hologram. All you have to do is make it go around an obstacle course and look pretty while doing it. Knowing your skills, you could probably program your horse to jump perfectly. You could win the event!"  
  
"Are you kidding? As pregnant as I am? The Doctor would have fits. And so would I!"  
  
At that moment, the three saw Crewman Jim Morrow walking down the corridor, obviously headed to the Mess Hall for his own dinner. Impulsively, Jamie called out, "Hey, Morrow! How about getting me pregnant so I don't have to ride a horse in the Olympics!"  
  
Jim stumbled a bit as he halted next to Jamie. He studied her smiling face for a moment before arching his eyebrow rather seductively. Placing his arm around Jamie's shoulders, he purred, "Why, McMinn, most people are on a first name basis before they decide to get pregnant. But I'm game. Would you care to talk about the details over dinner?"  
  
Both couples were still laughing as they swept through the Mess Hall doors.  
  
  
**Stardate 54717.6 -(Ten Days Post Transwarp Authorization) - Mess Hall Kitchen**  
  
Sarexa slipped into the kitchen and sat on the stool to observe the master chef at work. Neelix glanced behind him and smiled at her, but he quickly returned his attention to the _Srii_ stew. "Give me two minutes," he said. "This is the critical moment. I can't let it boil."  
  
"It smells delightful, Neelix," Sarexa said.  
  
He pulled the stew off the heat and began to stir it. "So, how is the transwarp installation going?"  
  
"It is going quite well. Lieutenant Torres is pleased with our progress."  
  
"Pleased!" Neelix exclaimed. "Several of the engineers have been complaining about her quick temper and moodiness." While still stirring, he glanced over at Sarexa. "It's to be expected, I understand. The third trimester of a Klingon pregnancy tends to be a very volatile couple of months."  
  
"Perhaps some of the engineers do not know how to tread carefully enough when speaking with her," she said, trying to control her smile. Sarexa know the real reason for the "volatile behavior" Carlson and several of the other engineers had provoked, but she wasn't about to say anything about this to Neelix. He was a very kind man, but he might let the secret slip out; Sarexa didn't want to be the reason it did. Instead, she observed, "I believe you've stirred the stew sufficiently. The warm blue color of the _gorp_ fruit has begun to leech out."  
  
Neelix looked down at his bowl. "You're absolutely right! Thank you, Sarexa. It wouldn't due for me to stir it too much. Pass me the salt, please."  
  
"Salt? With _gorp_ fruit?" she said, aghast.  
  
"It enhances the flavor."  
  
Sarexa picked up the salt and was about to hand it over, but then she hesitated and firmly shook her head.  
  
"Neelix, I know you prefer the stronger flavors..." She tried to think of kind way of critiquing him. " _Srii_ tuber has a very high salt content as it is. So does _gorp_. Some of the crew might find more salt a little _too_ much enhancement for the stew. Perhaps it would be better to let the crew add salt to their own taste?"  
  
"All right, my sweet. Perhaps we can leave the seasoning to them for once."  
  
With a tender smile towards her fellow Talaxian, Sarexa carefully, and gratefully, replaced the salt on the shelf.  
  
  
**Stardate 54737.5 (Eighteen Days Post Transwarp Authorization) - Holodeck 1**  
****  
Harry sat down on the stump at the edge of the river and stretched. He wasn't sure whether Neelix or Tom deserved the most blame--and pain--for adding this event. "What is this sport called again?" he shouted out to Hugh Murphy. The roar of the water nearly drowned him out.  
  
"Sculling, according to Neelix. I'd call it White Water Kayaking," Murphy answered as he wiped the water from his face. "And I'd like to know whose brilliant idea this was."  
  
"So would the rest of us," Jenny replied as she crawled from the water and collapsed on the bank. "What if we concede defeat and just practice the track events? We only have two weeks to go before the opening ceremonies."  
  
"I like that idea," Harry said, as he slowly stood up. "I always thought sculling involved a lake."  
  
The trio looked out at the raging river and shook their heads. "Neelix decided that was too boring. Computer, end program," Jenny said with a smile, as she glanced at Harry and Hugh. "I don't think I hurt enough to see the Doctor, but a hot bath would be great. Same time tomorrow?"  
  
"Sounds good. Ayala will be off, so we'll be able to practice passing the baton during the four-by-four relay tomorrow."  
  
"Good. And anyone who suggests adding a little excitement by including a boat..."  
  
"Or a horse," Murphy interjected.  
  
Jenny nodded in agreement. "Right, a boat OR a horse...needs to get their head examined!"  
  
Harry laughed. "Just remember, the preliminary rounds have us up against Carey's team. They're going to be stiff competition."  
  
Murphy waved as he left. Jenny bent down to pick up her small tote bag and said casually, "Harry, have you seen Marla recently?"  
  
"Not for several days. She's...She hasn't been doing too well." He shrugged. Marla had been moody, and in his opinion, too resigned to a fate that wasn't even a real possibility.  
  
"I saw Lessing the other day. He's just as...um...somber. Getting back to the Alpha Quadrant is increasingly looking like a mixed blessing for some of us."  
  
He nodded. "I had big dreams once. Captain of my own ship--that kind of thing. Now, I don't know. I'm behind my classmates in everything. Some of them are probably full lieutenants." He suspected that a couple of his classmates might have made lieutenant commander by now, but he didn't mention that to Jenny. "What do you know about the Dominion War?"  
  
"What you do. I understand your concerns." She sighed. "We have a completely different set of experiences. Will we fit in when we get back? And we don't know what will happen to the Maquis, the Equinox survivors--and our Delta Quadrant refugees, too. Neelix, Sarexa, Icheb--why hasn't the Captain told us what Starfleet is planning?"  
  
"I don't know." Harry knew Tom was optimistic everything would be all right, but Harry sometimes wondered if Admiral Paris had enough influence to help everyone. "It's possible she doesn't know what's going to happen herself."  
  
"There's a new rumor every day, it seems. This morning I heard that Tom's parole has been revoked."  
  
"All we have are rumors, Jenny. Janeway and Chakotay have both made announcements that we should stop spreading rumors. Maybe that needs to start with us."  
  
"But they haven't said they were false."  
  
Harry took a deep breath, thinking that sculling down white water rapids might beat trying to stop rumors. "Good news or bad, I'm sure the captain would tell us."  
  
"I don't like it, Harry. We're going to be home in a month, two at the most. We need to know what's waiting for us." Harry shook his head. He couldn't disagree.  
  
  
**Stardate 54767.7 (Twenty-nine Days Post Transwarp Authorization) - Engineering**  
  
"Are we ready?"  
  
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres breathed in so deeply, her daughter began to kick, probably from all that extra oxygen her mother had just taken in, before she answered, "We're as ready as we'll ever be, Captain. All we have left is to finish connecting the fittings to the gelpack circuitry system, and we can't do that until the very last minute. Once we do, we can switch the systems at any time, on your orders."  
  
From the floor of Deck 11, Captain Janeway gazed upward at the warp core. _My warp core--and B'Elanna's,_ she thought. It pulsed steadily, a gleaming, brilliant pillar of blue, just as it always did--or had, up until now. Once transwarp was in operation, her team had assured her that instead, she would see a warp core shining with all the colors of the rainbow, a column of pulsing psychedelic hues replacing that clear blue.  
  
B'Elanna and her supervisory staff were standing in front of the core. The captain studied each of the engineers in turn. If anyone could make three incompatible technologies work together as one, it had to be Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres and her able staff. Joe Carey, Bill Chapman, and Sue Nicoletti now knew this technology almost as well as the chief engineer did. But there was one face the captain missed seeing, one whom the captain couldn't help feeling should also be here. Annika Hansen, A.K.A. Seven of Nine had breathed, eaten, and--Kathryn guessed it should be called "regenerated"--the adaptation of Borg technology to Voyager's during her four years of residence on the ship. Icheb and Sarexa, also formerly Borg, had done their best to fill the void that had existed since Seven joined Axum and his group of refugees to begin a new life in the Shire. Kathryn had to trust that Icheb and Sarexa, in combination, were capable of filling Seven's role in this endeavor. If they had not been, the consequences could be catastrophic.  
  
So this was it. Decision time. She glanced to the left, to the man who stood next to her, who always was there to support her. She twitched an eyebrow in his direction. When his solemn expression yielded briefly to a quick smile, she had the only answer she needed.  
  
With a little tilt of her head, she said to those assembled, "All right, then. Crunch time it is: 1400 tomorrow."  
  
From her left, she heard a sotto voce voice utter, "Yes, ma'am." She had to smile.  
  



	4. Act 2

  
**Act 2--Stardate 54771.4 (Transwarp Conduit Day (1403 hours)  
  
**"Bridge to engineering. Begin the transwarp countdown."  
  
"Very good, Captain. Transwarp countdown is now engaged. Transwarp in three minutes." The computer took over the countdown at that point, counting down the seconds.  
  
At two minutes, thirty seconds the ship went to warp 7.6.  
  
At two minutes, the speed increased to warp 8.6.  
  
At one minute, Voyager reached optimum speed of warp 9.7.  
  
At fifty seconds Chakotay gripped his armrest. This was it. One month in the transwarp conduit, and they would be twenty to twenty-five thousand light years closer to the Alpha-Quadrant.  
  
At forty seconds, Kathryn finally sat down, clasping his hand tightly.  
  
At thirty seconds, the ship started to shudder. Expected, but still he found his heart racing--though that might be also be a result of the fact she was still holding his hand...  
  
Twenty…ten, nine, eight, seven, six...  
  
At five seconds, Chakotay wondered how the rest of the crew felt.  
  
At four seconds, he took a deep breath and held it.  
  
At three seconds, the stars started to blur.  
  
Two...  
  
One.  
  
*  
  
Tom watched, fascinated, as the image on the viewscreen evolved from starlight streaming past, to millions of lengths of yarn, and then to what looked like thousands of invisible fingers busily knitting myriads of multicolored threads of energy into a sparkling, woven tube. The holy grail. A transwarp conduit. _The biggest tube sock I've ever seen_ , he thought to himself, with a silent chuckle. _I'd better not say that aloud. That's almost as bad as asking to go to the head 20 seconds before engaging transwarp. I can just imagine the captain's glare if I'd said that out loud!_  
  
For a split second, he actually considered taking a bathroom break now, since they'd flown safely into the conduit and every instrument and data tell-tale on his board said all systems were go. But he knew it still wasn't a good time to give up his seat at the helm--even for the few minutes a trip to the head entailed. He couldn't abandon that view just yet.  
  
Even as he maintained a close watch on his instruments and kept Voyager on course, flowing smoothly through the transwarp conduit, from time to time he was able to glance upwards and appreciate the beautiful, almost psychedelic colors pulsating on the viewscreen. It was...just wonderful. He lived for times like these.  
  
This is why he’d become a starship pilot.  
  
*  
  
She could hardly breathe as the computer completed the countdown. As the field of stars disappeared, replaced by the shining energy walls of a transwarp conduit, she prayed to whatever powers were out there that her ship would be safe from harm. As the minutes passed and they simply traveled through the conduit without any signs of trouble, Kathryn became aware of just how rigidly she was sitting in her chair. Consciously easing herself into a more relaxed posture, she glanced down at her first officer's hand and realized exactly how forcefully she was gripping it. She released it and saw that she'd left pressure marks on his fingers.  
  
"Chakotay! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to clutch you that tightly."  
  
His dimples made an appearance as he shook his hand with a dramatic flourish, "I'm sure I'll be fine...once the blood circulates back into my fingers."   
  
They both chuckled, and she gently patted his forearm as he called out to each bridge station to request status reports, echoing the litany that had preceded the countdown leading to the institution of transwarp.   
  
As each station chimed out that all was well, Kathryn leaned back in appreciation. _No captain ever had a better crew,_ she thought. _If I had to get pulled into a distant quadrant, so far from home, I couldn't have asked for better companions._   
  
*  
  
From her station on the bridge, Sarexa could see the command team chatting away. For most of this operation, they had been completely professional. At least, they had been until the countdown reached the 40 second mark. She saw the captain grab the commander's hand, and she hadn't let go for many minutes afterwards.  
  
Sarexa had wondered about the true nature of their relationship before this. She'd asked Neelix about it weeks ago, when she'd admitted to being confused by human behavior. She'd observed Lieutenants Paris and Torres, who often displayed their affection in public, and asked Neelix, "Why do Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay seem to feel they must keep their relationship hidden?"  
  
"Captain Janeway is not involved with the Commander," Neelix had insisted, "although I admit, there have been rumors from time to time."   
  
"I don't understand. I have often watched them together. The captain is always touching the commander on the arm, or the shoulder, or takes him by the hand. I have often seen Lieutenant Paris take his wife's hand the same way. I realize it's not like tugging on his whiskers, of course; but isn't touching like that, in public, a sign of affection?"  
  
"Not always," he'd replied. "Sometimes it's just a sign of close friendship. Humans are an odd species. Even after seven years, I still don't understand them completely."  
  
And now, here they were again, holding hands in public; and this time, they were acting so loving towards each other, the captain might as well be tugging on his whiskers--if the commander had any to pull, that is. And Sarexa couldn't remember ever seeing the married Lieutenants Paris and Torres holding hands for as long as the command team just had.   
  
Neelix had admitted he didn't always understand human behavior; but of course, Neelix was male. Sarexa may have become Borg at a very young age, but she had already learned by then that males often have little or no true understanding of romantic relationships. Perhaps she should inquire about the subject from someone who would know more: one of the human crew members. Preferably, a female.  
  
*  
  
Tom could hear the captain and Chakotay chatting behind him. For the first tense minutes after transwarp become operational, and while everyone was still holding their breath, everything he heard them say to each other was directly concerned with the ship's operations. They'd received and discussed reports from every station on the bridge, not just the helm. Now, about ten minutes into the conduit, he could tell they were relaxed and enjoying the view, just as he was.   
  
A half hour after they'd entered the conduit, they all knew they were going to be able to use it long term. B'Elanna had done it--with a little help from her friends Sarexa, Icheb, Harry, and her entire department. Finally, at the fifty minute mark, Harry called out "Congratulations," and everyone on the bridge who didn't have to keep their hands at the ready over their console, as he did the helm, began to clap. Tom stole a glance over his right shoulder to check on Tuvok. As Tom expected, the second officer was studying his board intently, his fingers hovering over his console in case he needed to activate any of his security functions quickly. Tuvok wasn't clapping, any more than Tom was.  
  
For the next hour, the chief helmsman of Voyager stayed rooted to his chair, acutely aware of every little variation in his readings or the feel of the helm. There weren't many, but he noticed a couple of tiny blips, no more than a picosecond long, which warranted close study. He finally concluded they weren't problematic; this was just the new level of normal. His instruments needed to adjust to the new and different types of data now flooding into them. A little flutter probably was to be expected. Just in case, Tom Paris planned to keep his hands ready at his controls until he was sure everything really was working perfectly.  
  
Gradually, Tom became more attuned to the feel of his ship as he held it on course. He could no longer feel the characteristic, barely perceptible rumble of the warp engines in his gut; but this ride wasn't completely smooth, either. There was a subtle difference from what he remembered feeling from the time they'd used a transwarp coil stolen from a Borg cube during Operation Fort Knox. That was when they rescued Seven from the Queen's clutches and hightailed out of her Unicomplex as fast as they could. Even when that coil was actually burning out, the helm had felt different somehow.  
  
He sensed a barely noticeable vibration. He couldn't call it touch, exactly, although he had no doubt some of it was coming from where his butt met his seat and up his feet resting on the deck beneath him. He couldn't hear anything either, although he felt a little pressure in his eardrums. Tom guessed he might be perceiving a frequency just beyond the range of human hearing. It didn't actually hurt, or he'd ask the Doc to check him out, once he relinquished the helm to Culhane.  
  
While he maintained intense concentration on his duties, occasionally a stray thought about what was going on down in Engineering crossed his mind. His wife was either rushing around in a tither, raging at some imagined fluctuation of her new drive, or exchanging high fives with her engineers for getting this new technology up and running.  
  
Tom was a betting man. As much as he'd prefer to think his wife was reveling in her success, he’d have bet on the former if anyone would be willing to gamble on the opposite scenario. He suspected no one would be up for that today.  
  
  
**Stardate 54784.2 - (Five Days Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) - Mess Hall  
  
**Harry walked into the Mess Hall with a spring to his step. His spirits were soaring, as they had for the past five days, and he was eager to talk to his shipmates. One particular shipmate was uppermost on his mind. He spotted her at their regular table. Marla Gilmore saw him, too. She raised a hand holding a cup to indicate she had already gotten him a cup of tea.  
  
The room was full of those just released from duty on the Alpha shift, as well as those killing time by visiting friends, since they didn't have to report until tonight's Gamma shift. Harry was forced to wind his way through the crowd to reach his destination. As he made his way toward Marla, he couldn't help overhearing conversations from others in the crowded room.  
  
"I'm counting on spending Christmas at my grandmother's," he heard Jenny Delany say to the crowd at her table. "She makes the most incredible Andorian chocolate cake."  
  
Harry smiled. Jenny was almost as much of a homebody as he was. He hoped she would get her traditional holiday.  
  
As he hooked his way around another table, on route to Marla, he bumped into Hugh Murphy. "Hey, Harry, you'll know...," the crewman said.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"Are things really going as well as we think?"  
  
"Seem to be. I'd say we're right on target for arrival in the Alpha Quadrant in a month--or maybe even less." Harry said, grinning broadly. "B'Elanna's going to make sure she gets us home before that baby is born in the wrong section of the galaxy."  
  
Chuckling as he turned back to his companion, who was sitting two tables away, Murphy called out, "All right, Peterson, I'll take that bet now."  
  
"What bet?" Harry asked.  
  
"I told him we'd be home in time to catch a Premier League match, and he said 'no way.' His team plays mine right before Christmas."  
  
Harry smiled and winked, "Good bet."  
  
Excusing himself, Harry closed the distance to Marla. "Hi!" he called cheerfully as he took the seat across from hers. Multi-colored threads of light, woven together, which constituted the walls of the conduit, could be seen through the Mess Hall viewports. Harry was thrilled at the sight; it hadn’t palled even though it had already been several days. It meant their return to the Alpha Quadrant was imminent.  
  
Marla's greeting was less enthusiastic, although a genuine but reserved smile crossed her face. "Hello, Harry. How was your shift?"  
  
"Great. Pretty uneventful. We've got a better view through the Mess Hall port. There's not much to see or do right now but monitor our progress through our instruments."  
  
"I guess not."  
  
Her reserved manner had not gone unnoticed. Harry was fairly certain he knew what the problem was, but he decided to play dumb. Maybe that would help him make his point. "What's up?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Harry smiled, "Sorry, it's one of Tom's expressions. I mean, what's wrong?" He squeezed her hand in an effort to offer comfort, "You don't seem to be your usual smiling self."  
  
Marla smiled for his benefit. "I'm just worried. Getting home seems fairly close now, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it."  
  
"You don't know what's going to happen until we get there."  
  
"And that's the problem. Those of us with uncertain futures may be headed to prison the moment we dock. That's not something to look forward to."  
  
"Prison seems a little extreme to me, Marla. I'd imagine your time on board Voyager will mean a lot, as will the Captain's belief in you."  
  
"Janeway may have very little to say about it, Harry. We followed orders that we knew were wrong. We engaged in behavior that, at the very least, will get us court martialed. At the worst, it could put us in prison for the rest of our lives."  
  
Harry shook his head, "I don't believe that will happen. Captain Janeway has treated you like any other member of this crew. She even promoted you, remember? She's not going to let the five of you down. You’re just as responsible for our getting home as any members of this crew. She'll be there for you."  
  
"We're not like the Maquis, Harry. They're going to be fine, despite the rumors to the contrary. Those of us from the Equinox are done for. I'm sure of it."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure about your opinion of what's going to happen with the Maquis."  
  
Both Harry and Marla looked up to find Gerron standing over them, holding his dinner tray. "Sorry," he apologized, "I couldn't help overhearing that last part."  
  
Marla waved off the apology. "Please, join us," she said, as she pointed to the seat next to hers. Once he was sitting with them, she asked, "What do you mean, Gerron?"  
  
"I mean, I'm not so sure the Maquis are safe from retribution. I heard that Janeway got a letter, and Chakotay asked Janeway about it, but she hasn't given him any specifics. We all know there are plenty in the Admiralty who still hold us responsible for our actions against the Federation. They may not be willing to let it go."  
  
"After all this time?" Harry asked incredulously, "And after all that's happened? B'Elanna told me that the remaining Maquis were released from prison after the war ended." Pushing away the sudden recollection that B'Elanna hadn't said all the Maquis had been released, just some of them, Harry insisted, "Why would they want to punish those of you here? You're heroes, remember?"  
  
Gerron shrugged, "I'm just passing on what I heard. The Maquis may still have to answer for getting Voyager stuck out here in the first place."  
  
"It's not your fault we're out here," Harry interrupted. "We all got pulled in by the Caretaker, remember? You're talking nonsense."  
  
"I hope you're right, Harry." Gerron answered. "I'd hoped to stay in Starfleet once we returned," he smiled self-deprecatingly, "but if the brass is looking to rake us over the coals, what I want won't matter."  
  
"I'm sure you're worried about nothing," Marla assured him. "The Maquis actions were justifiable. When they review what we did on the Equinox, our actions won't be as defensible." She smiled sadly at Harry, "All the faith of our friends won't keep us out of jail."  
  
Harry wanted to say he was more than a friend, she shouldn't give up, and that Starfleet was known for occasionally overlooking transgressions if the end justified the means, but he didn't have a chance. Marla squeezed his shoulder as she stood up to leave.  
  
"I'm going to go, Harry. I'm not very good company right now, and you shouldn't be stuck sitting here with me while I feel this way."  
  
She left before either man could protest.   
  
Gerron waved his fork in her direction as he observed, "The Prophets said 'nothing excuses genocide.' That particular verse spawned the Resistance. She's right, Harry. Don't let your emotions cloud your ability to see it. Starfleet won't ignore what they did. Prison may be their best option."  
  
Harry fought to control his anger. "You'd better watch your mouth, Gerron. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means that once upon a time you were in Marla's shoes. Seven years ago the Maquis were headed for prison once we made it home. That didn't stop the rest of us from accepting you as our crewmates, as our friends. We had faith in the Maquis, Gerron; the least the Maquis can do is have faith in the Equinox crew."  
  
  
**Stardate 54786.1 - (Six Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) - Mess Hall  
**  
Jenny Delaney smiled and thanked Sarexa as she poured her a cup of tea. She couldn't remember what Sarexa had called it, other than it was real Talaxian tea. When the cup was full, however, Sarexa didn't walk back to the kitchen right away.  
  
Jenny took a sip. "This tea is excellent, Sarexa." Jenny took another sip, but Sarexa was still standing by the table, teapot in hand. Jenny asked, "Is there a problem?"  
  
"Thank you, and yes." The former Borg Talaxian took a deep breath and said, "Ensign Delaney, I am puzzled by human behavior."  
  
"That's all right, we're sometimes puzzled by it ourselves. Have a seat." Jenny motioned with her free hand for the Talaxian to sit down. "What's puzzling you?"  
  
"Would you say the Captain and Commander are lovers, or merely friends?"  
  
Jenny swallowed her tea too quickly and began to choke. Sarexa stood up and glanced quickly around the Mess Hall.  
  
"Should I contact the Doctor?" Sarexa asked.  
  
"No, no, I'm fine." She took another sip of tea, wondering just how she would explain the situation to Sarexa. She knew Megan would find this situation hysterically funny, but Jenny wasn't happy about it at all. "Well, let's put it this way, it's not something that can be easily defined," Jenny said, once she'd stopped coughing. "Early on, they used to flirt a lot, and then they spent those months alone on New Earth, which made everyone assume that _something_ happened; but then they got back and nothing further did. That anyone knows about for sure. Really, other than a few rumors, there's been no evidence one way or the other. In fact, each of them have had brief flings with others..." Jenny halted. Sarexa looked completely baffled by what Jenny had just said. Perhaps she'd said too much? "Why the sudden interest?"  
  
"I was on the bridge when we initiated the transwarp drive. I could see them in their command chairs. She was holding his hand for a long time. A very long time. And they were smiling at each other when they talked. If they were Talaxian, I would believe they loved each other."  
  
Jenny pondered this piece of information as she finished her tea. For the most part, all the betting pools on those two had dried up years ago. Which was too bad, in a way. Deep down, Jenny was a romantic. She would have liked seeing the two of them end up together. It felt right for them to be a couple, not just the command team. They'd always been perfectly professional on duty, but when they participated in one of the crew functions, like the luaus and the Prixin celebrations, Jenny always felt they must have a much deeper connection they were afraid to show to anyone, maybe even to each other.  
  
Jenny had spent seven years looking for someone on Voyager, the person she could have that kind of connection with, but she'd never found him. According to all their calculations, they would be home by Christmas. There'd be more possible partners to choose from in the Alpha Quadrant, of course, but would she have any more luck finding the right one there than she had on Voyager? As Tom and B'Elanna had proven, romance could find its way into the Delta Quadrant, too, but for her? It never seemed to work out. It was depressing just to think about, especially considering that letter she'd received from Captain Doctor Leo the Thickest, or whatever his name was. Romance, career--nothing was going the way she wanted it to right now.  
  
Finally, Jenny replied to Sarexa, "I wouldn't read too much into whatever you saw. I'm sure there's a reasonable--and totally unromantic--explanation." Jenny sighed as she stood up to leave. "Although, if there is something to it...it's about time."  
  
  
**Stardate 54786 - (Eight Days Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) - Lessing Quarters**  
  
Noah glanced up from his reading at the sound of the door chime. His roommates wouldn't need to ring--and he rarely had visitors. "Enter," he called out. When he saw who it was, he smiled warmly. "Hello. Good to see you. Been a while.''  
  
Marla didn't respond right away, and he wondered at her hesitation. Then he realized she must have heard the same rumors he'd been hearing.   
  
"I'm sorry, I'm disturbing you. I'll come back." She turned around to step out of his door.  
  
He put the PADD down. "No, that's all right, Marla. Have a seat. I'm just rereading a letter from my daughter." He bit his lip. "We've agreed we should let her stepfather adopt her." There were several seconds of silence as she sat down. "It's for the best," he said quickly, to cut off any sympathy from his visitor. If there was even a germ of truth to the rumors, they'd all be better off if his daughter forgot all about him.  
  
"Is it? Is it really?" There was no conviction in her voice.  
  
"Marla, we don't know what Starfleet is planning."  
  
"What choice do they have? We did such awful things...and..."  
  
"And you've found someone?" He smiled at her reaction. As upset as she was, she couldn't keep herself from smiling as she nodded that she had. He was glad she'd found Harry. They both deserved to find some happiness. But when Marla spoke, her response to his comment was not what he'd expected.  
  
She sighed. "Yes, I have found someone--and the timing couldn't be worse. Harry belongs in Starfleet. He'll make an excellent captain someday. But he'll never get that promotion if he has an Equinox criminal as his wife."   
  
Noah's eyes opened wide. "I hadn't realized the two of you had become that serious."  
  
"Not in so many words, but...oh, Noah, I'd say yes if he asks me...If I could."   
  
He took her hand. "Marla, you can't let your fears cloud your judgment. Whatever happens will happen."  
  
"When did you become so philosophical?"  
  
He shrugged. "I've seen all shades of human nature--much of it isn't pleasant, but even Captain Janeway has been willing to give us a second chance... _Ensign_ Gilmore."   
  
Noah still had nightmares about what might have happened if Commander Chakotay hadn't stopped the captain when he had been shackled to a chair in the holodeck, just waiting for those screaming aliens to descend on him. He'd never asked Captain Janeway if she really would have gone through with it--or told anyone about that incident, either. He understood all too well the captain's anger and fear at the time. When Marla began to speak again, however, Noah returned his attention on the officer in front of him and pushed away the memory of the angry captain who had confronted him two years ago.   
  
"Starfleet still hasn't approved my return to rank, and I don't think they ever will."  
  
"Even if they don't..." Noah began to say.  
  
"We'll be ostracized,” Marla cut in. “The Equinox will become a name that will be universally reviled because of what we did."  
  
"Under orders...Orders given because we were desperate, afraid, and alone."  
  
"Not an excuse." She stared at the ceiling. "Would we have done anything differently if we could?"  
  
"I'd like to think so."  
  
"Me too." After a short pause, Marla added, "Do you ever think...think about not going back at all? Asking the captain to drop us off somewhere before we've left the Delta Quadrant?"  
  
Noah didn’t even hesitate. "No, Marla. I don't. I need to see my daughter again. Even if we're living apart--and even if I do end up in prison--it will be worth it just to be able to see her and hug her again. No matter what everyone is saying, I don't believe they'll just lock us up and forget about us." After a brief hesitation, he went on, "I've spoken about this with the others, you know." Noah didn't need to identify the others by name, although he did. "Angelo comes from a Starfleet family. He says it's his duty to return and face any sentence he'll receive, because he knows he deserves it. And he's very attracted to Tal Celes. If things don't go so badly for us, he wouldn't mind having more than a friendly relationship with her."  
  
"That's obvious. Jim dated Jamie McMinn a couple of times...not that that's likely to go anywhere."  
  
"Who knows if it will or not? When I spoke to Jim, he said 'of course' he was going back. It's the only way he'll be able to respect himself again. And Brian seems resigned to whatever will happen. He told me the five of us need to stand together, to face any outcome, good or bad. It doesn't matter which it is, because he thinks we should have died on the Equinox with Captain Ransom because of what we did.”  
  
She listened to what he had to say, but never said a word in response. Noah wasn't surprised, really. He saw her eyes were so full of tears, they were about to spill over. Marla probably wasn't able to say anything at that point. She gave Noah's hand a little squeeze before pulling hers away. Then, without giving him the chance to even say "Goodbye," she turned and ran out of his quarters, with tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. With a sad sigh, Noah picked up his PADD began to reread the last letter he'd received from his daughter...even though he already knew it by heart.  
  



	5. Act 3

**Act 3 - Stardate 54831.3 - (Fourteen Days Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) -  
Captain Janeway's Quarters  
**  
_Captain's personal log, Stardate 54784.3._  
  
_It's been two weeks since we engaged the transwarp, and it has worked well. Energy outputs are within acceptable limits. Voyager is traveling at speeds that exceed those of normal warp by a factor far in excess of our previous maximum of 9.975, and without the deleterious side effects of Warp 10. We do not appear to be moving at anything near the velocity we did when we used the transwarp coil we liberated from the Borg, however. B'Elanna, Sarexa, and Icheb have conjectured that either the coil we now possess was designed for one of the smaller spheres, and therefore is not as efficient in propelling Voyager as the one we "secured" during Operation Fort Knox, or the Zornon Cloak technology is interfering with our reaching maximum speeds. When B'Elanna and Icheb were using the holodecks for their simulations, they never concerned themselves with how quickly the holographic Voyager was moving through the simulated conduit. They were focused upon making sure the disparate components of the system were compatible enough so we could use them to form our drive. Even if we are traveling slower than we did that other time, our current speed is far greater than we could reach using any current Starfleet technology. We should be thankful it's working as well as it is.  
  
Our sensors work as well now as they do when we're traveling at regular warp speeds. Unfortunately, this means we've sailed right past every system, anomaly, and planet, no matter how tantalizing our scans indicate they might be. We fly out of range too quickly to do anything more than gather the barest tantalizing tidbits of information. I confess I was extremely disappointed when our scans picked up a Class Three nebula yesterday. I would have liked to stop and study it for a day or two, but B'Elanna is against disengaging transwarp and leaving the conduit for any reason, short of an emergency. It would take at least a week, and probably much longer, to realign the coil before we could reengage transwarp, so we had to pass the nebula by. Ah, well. With this drive, perhaps I can come back this way again someday and have the time to examine it at my leisure.  
  
Regarding the Olympic Games: Harry, among others, has expressed doubts about the white water sculling event. I'm not certain it's feasible at this point to hold every event anyway, especially the last two Neelix and Tom introduced. Sculling doesn't sound anything like what I've always envisioned. "Sculling" and "White Water" seem to be mutually exclusive terms. I need to review the rules for all the boating events before making a decision about them. From the complaints I've been hearing from the crew who are trying to learn to ride our holographic steeds, I believe the cancellation of Dressage would meet with virtually universal approval. The only one who would be truly disappointed by that decision would be Neelix. At this point, I believe even Lieutenant Paris is willing to give up trying to persuade Ensign McMinn to relax on a horse. I don't blame her one bit. Horses and I have never gotten along.  
  
I cannot say I mind that our ship is traveling at a somewhat slower pace than originally anticipated, since many of our crew are not looking forward to our imminent arrival. Our former Equinox crew members have become increasingly despondent the closer we get to home. I'm afraid they have good reason to be anxious, considering the contents of Dae's letter. I hope the reception of our Maquis will be more welcoming; but, again, without definitive word from Starfleet about what plans they have for them, the fact that they're so on edge is perfectly understandable.   
  
Commander Chakotay and I have discussed traveling to several alternate destinations once we leave transwarp. We've agreed that we should return to using our normal warp drive once we reach the Alpha Quadrant, when we would finally be able to communicate with Starfleet Command through normal subspace communication channels. The commander believes a stop at Deep Space Nine might be in order. If Starfleet is amenable to this change in destination, I would certainly go along with his suggestion. Somehow, it would be fitting to end our adventure at the spot where, in my opinion, our journey actually began. We'd have come full circle, as it were.  
  
End recording.  
  
_Kathryn asked the computer to play back what she'd recorded. After careful consideration, she decided she had no additions or corrections to make--in her log. In the privacy of her personal thoughts, however, she had a lot to add. _If we find that the worst fears of Chakotay, the Maquis and Equinox crew are clearly going to be realized, at least at DS9 they'd have the option to seek asylum on Bajor. I'm certain the Bajorans would be willing to keep my people safe from harm._  
  
She hoped it wouldn't come to that _._  
  
  
**Stardate 54831.1 (Nineteen Days Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) -  
Mess Hall Kitchen (1550 hours)**  
  
Sarexa gripped the pot tighter, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw it at his head. "Don't dismiss my concerns as if they have absolutely no basis in fact!"  
  
Neelix grimaced and took two steps away from her. "I just meant that life on Earth will be different than on Voyager. I'll be the ambassador from Talaxia. And I'm thinking about opening a restaurant. Chez Neelix..."  
  
"Chez Overspiced is a better name! And me? What am I going to do?" She put the pot down. She was tired and cranky. The constant drone from the transwarp drive was keeping her up every night.  
  
"I had hoped..." Neelix bit his lip. "Whatever you want to do is fine, but I could use a partner."  
  
"Neelix, I left the Tikvah to have a better life...I..." She turned away. "Now I don't know if I did the right thing. Seven may have been right. Will the Humans accept me?" She touched her face where, only months ago, the Borg implants had been. She didn't have any outward markings of being Borg now, but it was still who she had been.  
  
"Seven decided to leave Voyager because she loves Axum, not because she feared how she would be received on Earth."   
  
"But, what if they want to imprison me as an enemy or...to study me. If not as a former Borg, then as a freak from the Delta Quadrant?"  
  
"Sweeting! Sarexa, you aren't a freak. Anyway, they wouldn't dare. Captain Janeway won't allow it."  
  
She was sobbing now. "She won't have time. She's going to be tried for aiding and abetting the Maquis, and the Maquis and Equinox survivors are going to spend their lives in prison!"  
  
Neelix shook his head. "I've heard the same rumors, Sarexa, my sweet, and they're just rumors, nothing more." He sounded so reassuring, she wanted to believe him, really, she did. But Chell had been so mad at lunch. Why would anyone get mad at nothing? "And even if it's true, the Federation has laws that will protect you--and I can give you diplomatic immunity." He smiled warmly at her.  
  
She wiped her eyes with her hand. Neelix was very nice, but he wasn't the family she'd lost when the Borg had assimilated their colony. And Sarexa knew she wasn't Kes. Neelix rarely talked about his ex-girlfriend, but the few times he did, he spoke warmly about the young Ocampan. She didn't stand a chance against his memories of her. Sarexa had remained on Voyager because of Neelix; now, she wondered if that had been a mistake. "I'm sorry, Neelix. I'm not good company now. I'll leave you to your cooking."  
  
Neelix took her hand. "You're always good company, Sarexa. I have a leola root pie in the oven. Can't you smell it baking? It's the last of the leola root, you know." He smiled. "It's best warm. And I've replicated this wonderful topping called whipping cream. Tom says it's good on all kinds of desserts. Won't you share some of the pie with me? No one on Voyager appreciates leola root the way you and I do."  
  
She nodded slowly, responding almost reluctantly to his entreaties. Neelix opened his arms and invited her to come to him. Sarexa stood motionless for several seconds, but she finally stepped forward into his embrace. Her fears and loneliness hadn't gone away. She was certain Neelix would never speak of her as warmly as he did his former girlfriend. Where she might be at this moment, no one knew. No one could predict what form the ascended Ocampan might have taken, even if she was nearby.   
  
Kes was gone. And Sarexa was here. Was that the only reason Neelix was so nice to her?  
  
  
**Mess Hall (2012)**  
  
B'Elanna was used to having dinner late, but she seldom had to eat alone. Tom was very good about delaying his own meal until B'Elanna was free to eat, too; but tonight was his turn to be in charge of the bridge covering Beta Shift. He was supposed to sit in the command chair when he pulled this duty, although B'Elanna wouldn't be surprised if he was at the helm this very moment. Whenever he could, he sat there, even when he was nominally in command. Considering how uneventful the flight through the transwarp conduits had been, she wouldn't be surprised if that's where he was this evening. He'd have Ensign Brooks, who was supposed to be at the helm this shift, sitting off to the side as his backup, and Mariah Henley, who was supposed to be Brooks' backup, was probably sitting in Chakotay's chair, enjoying the view--what there was of it. The bridge crew had long since ceased to be fascinated by the transwarp conduit, pulsing on the screen in sync with the warp core, just as B'Elanna and her engineers no longer spent much time gazing at the brightly glowing column of rainbow hues splashing across the engineering decks, even though both glittered in multi-colored splendor.  
  
It would have been especially nice to be able to speak to her husband tonight. None of the people she was close to were in the Mess Hall right now. She would have welcomed a conversation with just about anyone at this point, but it appeared Joe Carey's warnings about "beware of wild-and-crazy pregnant Klingon behavior" must have swept around Voyager, in the same way the rumors about the Maquis being thrown into prison as soon as Voyager landed in the Alpha Quadrant had become topic number one among everyone now, not just the Maquis. And the Equinox crew? They were apparently bound to be exiled to Rura Penthe --even though that Klingon prison planet had been abandoned decades ago.   
  
B'Elanna had actually continued to enjoy that "mellow middle" mood right into her third trimester; but tonight, she couldn't help feeling a little down. It wasn't the stupid rumors that were bothering her tonight, either. Listening to the conversation Jamie McMinn was having with Ensign Lang was enough to depress anyone. She'd been crying for the last five minutes, and when Lang asked her why, she'd wailed, "Jim Morrow is going to spend the rest of his life in prison! You've heard the rumors! We'll never get a chance to be together now!"  
  
"What do you care? You had dinner with him twice! You're not even dating that murderer!" Lang shot at McMinn.  
  
McMinn began to cry even more hysterically until she coughed out, "He's not a murderer! He's not! He's a nice guy!"   
  
"Face facts and toughen up, McMinn," Lang snarled. "Morrow _is_ a murderer, just like the rest of those Equinox losers." She stomped out of the Mess Hall, leaving a desolate McMinn curled up in the corner of one of the Mess Hall couches, carrying on like Morrow had already been thrown in jail without hope of parole.  
  
B'Elanna couldn't get over her shock. To hear the usually mild-mannered Lang speaking that way was so--unexpected. Harry's primary backup was one of the friendliest, most easy-going people on this ship. What she'd said about Jim Morrow's chances once the ship reached the Alpha Quadrant wasn't a surprise. B'Elanna knew a great many of the crew were certain the Equinox survivors would be thrown out of Starfleet and penalized severely for what had happened on that sorry excuse of a ship. But Lang's attitude--it was just so out of character. It was as if an evil spirit like Fek'lhr, the demon who guarded Gre'thor, had taken over her body.  
  
B'Elanna shivered. She scooped up the last forkful of her Pleeka Rind casserole and jumped up to recycle her dishes. She needed to get down to Engineering anyway. Hopefully, Joe had looked over the data she'd asked Vorik to show him. With any luck, he'd be able to say he didn't see anything in it for them to worry about.  
  
*  
  
Sarexa sat down to eat. The dinner rush was finally over. Lieutenant Torres had just left, and except for Ensign McMinn, Sarexa now was alone in the Mess Hall. Neelix had left to play in the bridge tournament. He had tried to teach it to her, but she hadn't thought the game very exciting. Working in the kitchen was more soothing than that sort of pastime, and she usually enjoyed interacting with the crew. Lately, nothing pleased her very much, but cooking helped keep her from dwelling on her fears about what would happen to her once they reached the Alpha Quadrant. Just as she took the first bite of her casserole, the Mess Hall door slid open.  
  
"Icheb." She started to stand up to serve him.  
  
"No, Sarexa," he said. "Please remain seated. I can serve myself."  
  
"I see you can. Are you finding everything you want for your meal?" She watched the cadet, ready to assist if he needed anything.  
  
"Yes, thank you."  
  
"Good. Would you care to join me?"  
  
She wasn't surprised when he sat down across from her. Unless he wished to dine alone, his only other choice for a companion was sobbing piteously in the corner. They ate quietly for several minutes before she broke the silence. "Studying hard?"  
  
"Yes. I am studying the causes of the Axanar conflict. It is an interesting period in Federation history."  
  
"Are you pleased with what you've learned about the Federation?"  
  
"I am. The way the people of so many worlds have found ways to work with each other is very encouraging. From what I've learned from my study of Voyager's logs, not many societies in the Delta Quadrant have trusted each other enough to band together in that way. Even those Alpha Quadrant worlds which have not actually joined the Federation, such as the Klingon Empire and Bajor, have developed ways of working with them."  
  
"How well do you think you will fit in after you get to Earth?"  
  
"Very well, I hope. Admiral Paris has told me that if I arrive before my class graduates, I will be able to move into the dormitories on the Starfleet Academy campus immediately. That's exciting. I know the academic staff will accept the work I've already completed to satisfy the course requirements for my second year of study. I'm hoping to have some of my research and experience in Astrometrics count towards my third year of classes. What about you?"  
  
She stared at her bowl, still half filled with her casserole. "I don't know. Three weeks ago I was excited. I was beginning a new life."  
  
"No longer Borg?"  
  
She nodded. "No longer Borg. But they still haunt me. What we did when we were drones, and what happened on the Tikvah, even after we were free to be ourselves again...I cannot stop thinking about my past life. I have seen terrible things, Icheb. Sometimes I cannot accept what I have seen and what I have done myself. Will those in the Alpha Quadrant accept me? Accept us?"  
  
"Some will be afraid of us."  
  
"Too many will be. There are times I feel so alone. You are very lucky. You have friends here. You have Naomi."  
  
"Sarexa, you've made many friends on Voyager. Naomi tells me Neelix likes you very much."  
  
"Does he? I sometimes wonder if he likes me for me. Once we get to the Alpha Quadrant, I'll be the only female Talaxian within thousands of light years of him." Sarexa looked down at the table, no longer even trying to make a show of eating. She had never asked Neelix that question. Now she didn't think she ever would; she was more than a little afraid of what his answer might be.  
  
"You should ask him." Icheb urged. "I'm sure he likes you because you are you. You are a very accomplished person. I don't believe we could have managed to make the transwarp drive work without your assistance. Once we are in the Alpha Quadrant, you will meet new people. You will discover many exciting possibilities, with or without Neelix. Then you will find out if he likes you just because you are Talaxian."  
  
Icheb was trying to raise her spirits, she realized. She should try to do the same for him, even if she felt even emptier than she did before Icheb mentioned Neelix might not be part of her life in the Alpha Quadrant. Sighing, she made a brave attempt to smile at him and said, "And you will get the chance to meet others your own age, too, once you're living on campus. That should be exciting. And Naomi will be there with you at the Academy, too."  
  
He frowned and stabbed at his casserole. She thought he seemed puzzled, or perhaps worried about something. Finally he said, "Naomi will not be in any of my classes. I will not see her as often as I do now. And..." Icheb put down his fork and stared at his half-eaten meal, just as she had at her own a little earlier. Suddenly, Icheb jumped to his feet and said, "I must return to Astrometrics. I promised to assist Ensign Delaney on a mapping project." He picked up his tray and threw his partially eaten meal into the recycler.  
  
As she watched him walk out of the Mess Hall, Sarexa wondered why his mood had changed so abruptly. Neelix had mentioned that Naomi's mother had misgivings about Icheb courting her daughter. Had Sam spoken harshly to him? Sarexa couldn't imagine why Ensign Wildman could not see Icheb's many good qualities. Could it be that Sam did not want her daughter involved with him because he had once been Borg?   
  
Leaning her elbows on the table, Sarexa stared down at her half-eaten meal again. She knew she could not eat even a bite more, but she doubted she had the energy to pick up her tray and discard it, the way Icheb had done.   
  
Sarexa became aware that Ensign McMinn was no longer crying over Crewman Morrow's prison sentence. She glanced into the lounge corner and saw she had stretched out on one of the couches, although she didn't seem to be sleeping. Every now and then, the ensign sniffed, and her eyes were very red from weeping.  
  
If Sarexa could manage to drag herself over to the recycler to throw away the remains of her meal, maybe she could stretch out on one of the other couches. She hadn't been able to sleep well for ages, it seemed, and definitely not in the past week. If she could, she would cry over what was happening to her life, just like Ensign McMinn, but at this point, Sarexa did not have the energy to do even that.   
  
  
**Engineering (2049)**  
  
Joe Carey nervously tapped his fingers on the console as he read through the PADD. Tal Celes contacted him an hour ago. She said she had dislocated her shoulder while practicing the high jump, which meant she wouldn't be able to attend tomorrow's Olympic games practice. She didn't seem quite herself when she contacted him; and when he asked her about it, she said she'd been given a muscle relaxant which made her sleepy. He sighed and said he understood, but that meant he had to adjust the entire practice schedule for the next day, and perhaps the day after, too.   
  
When a shadow passed over him, he glanced up. "Ensign Vorik?"  
  
Vorik handed him another PADD. "Lieutenant Torres wanted your opinion on these numbers when she came back from her dinner."  
  
"I'll take care of it," Joe said, as he accepted the PADD from Vorik and began to read, until he became aware that Vorik was still standing over him. "Is there something else I can do for you, Vorik?"  
  
"I would like to go to Sickbay for an appropriate analgesic for my headache."  
  
"It's back again?"  
  
"No, I have never been without it for the past three days. A stronger medication appears to be necessary."  
  
"All right, Vorik." Joe checked the time. "You're supposed to be off duty hours ago anyway. Go to your quarters and get some rest."  
  
"I am to be Lieutenant Rollins' partner at the bridge tournament this evening. I do not wish to disappoint him."  
  
"If your head is throbbing, I don't know how great a partner you'd be tonight, but that's up to you. You're free to go."  
  
Joe turned back to the PADD he'd received from Vorik and started entering some values. As he finished, the chief engineer returned from supper. "I've looked through the data like you asked, B'Elanna. As long as the tertiary flow rates remain within standard parameters, there shouldn't be any problem."  
  
"I...agree." He wondered at B'Elanna's hesitation.  
  
"Is there something in particular you wanted me to check?" He started to scroll through the data again.  
  
"No. All systems are working even better than expected. We've just seen a minor variation in the secondary flow rate sometimes. It lasts less than one picosecond. Tom calls them 'blips,' since they show up on the helm readouts."  
  
"We could start a diagnostic..."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. "I don't want to do that unless we must. It would mean coming out of the transwarp conduit, and you know what that means. It would take weeks for us to realign everything before we could make another attempt."  
  
"It's your call. What does the Captain say?"  
  
"Up to now, pretty much what you say, but I don't think she wants to come out of transwarp, either." B'Elanna leaned over the console and punched in a few numbers. "I don't know, Joe. A picosecond _is_ well within all established safety standards, but my gut tells me..." She glanced over at him and saw his grin. "Yes, my GUT...not my uterus! But yes, with this mix of technologies compensating for each other..."  
  
"It's amazing. A truly curious and unique system. Or maybe...” Joe frowned as he looked over the data again. The transwarp drive had been spectacularly successful, all things considered, but maybe there _was_ something they weren't seeing.   
  
He was about to say this to B'Elanna when he heard her sigh, "We've got to go to the captain with this, Joe. It's only a picosecond here and another one there, but I want to get her opinion. If she wants us to pull the plug on transwarp now, we'll have to do it."  
  
Joe nodded. "Since I'm supposed to be in charge this shift, I'll contact her."   
  
"Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it."  
  
When Joe comm’d the captain, she responded, _“I'll be right there.”_   
  
  



	6. Act 3 (continued)

  
  
**Deck 5 Corridor (2055)**  
  
Whenever conditions permitted, Chakotay walked the corridors of the ship for what he thought of as his final rounds before turning in. At this time of day, almost 2100, most of the crew who weren't on duty for Beta shift seemed to be in their quarters or spending the evening in quiet pursuits. As he approached Holodeck 2, however, he heard distant shouts echoing up the corridor. He ran to find out what was happening.   
  
To his dismay, he saw Fitzpatrick and Jackson, both former Maquis, arguing heatedly. Chakotay couldn't catch what their argument was about. They were so angry, everything coming out of their mouths was pure gibberish. When Chakotay was about 10 meters away from the pair, Jackson swung at Fitzpatrick, even though Lieutenant Andrews was hanging onto Jackson in an unsuccessful attempt to drag him away from their confrontation. Despite Tuvok's vaunted Vulcan strength, Voyager's Chief of Security wasn't having any better luck hauling Fitzpatrick out of Jackson's reach.   
  
"What is going on here?!" Chakotay roared. "This is a Federation starship, not a schoolyard!"  
  
As the sound of their former captain's voice rang through the corridor, both men stopped struggling. Tuvok was finally able to yank Fitzpatrick three meters from Jackson, well out of punching range.  
  
Chakotay walked between Jackson and Fitzpatrick. While they were physically apart and unable to escape the security officers who had them firmly under control, he could see neither man had cooled down to any degree. Their faces were still contorted with rage, and Fitzpatrick, at one point, even looked like he was about to spit on the deck. When Chakotay stepped in front of him and stared him down, nose-to-nose from mere centimeters away, Fitzpatrick swallowed visibly, but Chakotay didn't move away from the backup conn officer until the man turned his head to one side.  
  
Stepping back until both men were in his field of vision, the commander asked, "Now, will someone tell me why two men who have been friends for over eight years are throwing punches at each other?"  
  
"He started it!" Fitzpatrick said. "I have the holodeck at 2100, and when the door opened, he ran in front of me and pushed me away!"  
  
"That's because I have it at 2100! He had no right taking my spot!"  
  
"It says it's my turn!"  
  
"If it does, it's because you hacked into the computer and plugged in your name!" Jackson went up on his toes, and Andrews had all he could do to keep him under control.  
  
"Stow it!" admonished Chakotay. "If this keeps up, you'll both end up in the brig."  
  
"We're all going to end up in prison for the rest of our lives anyway! What does it matter if I get locked up a few days early?" Fitzpatrick yelled.   
  
"Maybe you don't care, Fitzpatrick, but I want to enjoy my freedom for as long as I can! They won't let us go to any cushy holodecks in New Zealand! Ask Paris! He knows!"  
  
_"THAT'S ENOUGH!"_ Both men froze as Chakotay stalked between the two. "Commander Tuvok, please have both of these men taken to the brig, where they can spend the rest of the evening contemplating the holodeck programs neither one will enjoy. If the captain agrees, and if they've managed to cool down by the beginning of Gamma shift, they can be released to their quarters to remain in confinement until the captain has the opportunity to take them to task for their _outrageous_ behavior."  
  
Tuvok comm’d Ensign Golwat to assist Lieutenant Andrews with transporting the two men to the brig. After suffering silent stares from their first and second officers, both of the combatants were visibly subdued by the time she arrived. When Andrews and Golwat marched them away, the two former Maquis were cooperating fully with the security officers.  
  
Just before the prisoners and their jailers left for the brig, Chakotay became aware of someone weeping. He gestured to Tuvok to follow him, but the Vulcan officer didn't comply. He seemed to be lost in thought. Chakotay had to touch him on the shoulder before Tuvok realized he had been summoned. As they walked down the corridor, Chakotay was tempted to ask Tuvok if something was troubling him, but the words died in his mouth as they rounded the bend. Crewmen Jor and Tal Celes were sitting next to one another on the deck. Ensign Tabor was crouched in front of Jor, begging his girlfriend to join him in their quarters, to pray for guidance from the Prophets. Jor was crying hysterically, saying over and over, "We're all done for!" The senior officers did not know if her comments had prompted the tears running down Tabor's face, or if they were the result of frustration, since she was successfully resisting all his efforts to get her to stand up and come with him.  
  
At the same time, Crewman Tal Celes was bawling, "They're going to throw me out of Starfle-ee-eet!"   
  
Tuvok bent down and asked her, "Why do you think this? All of your superiors have been extremely satisfied with your performance during the past year."  
  
"But I'm incompetent," she blubbered.   
  
To add to the confusion, further up the corridor, Crewman Gerron was chanting away. "A Bajoran Death Chant, I presume," Tuvok observed.  
  
"Yes, it is. I've heard it many times before," Chakotay said, though he wondered why Gerron felt compelled to offer such prayers to the Prophets now.   
  
With help from Chakotay and Tuvok, Tabor was finally able to pull Jor to her feet. Tabor thanked the senior officers and helped her walk the short distance to the quarters they had been sharing for the past several months. Tuvok turned back to Tal Celes and urged her to go to her quarters to rest. "You will look at your situation with a more positive attitude in the morning, Crewman, after you have taken adequate rest." Still sniffling, the Bajoran crewman rose from the floor, nodded to the commanders, and walked down the corridor, dragging her fingers along the left-hand wall, as if she needed to keep herself on course.  
  
As the two officers began to walk slowly towards Gerron's position, Chakotay asked Tuvok, "What's happening here? Is everyone on this deck suddenly going insane?"  
  
"I do not know, Commander. I was on my way to Sickbay to speak with the Doctor when I was forced to step between Crewmen Jackson and Fitzpatrick, to intervene before their confrontation escalated to the point that one or both would suffer injury. An alarming number of altercations have come to my attention recently, but the situation seems to have escalated over the past 12 hours. I wished to consult with the Doctor, to discover if he has provided treatment to crew members who may have provided alternate explanations for their injuries, but which actually were caused by incidents similar to those we have just seen."  
  
"Good idea. I'll stop by the captain's quarters and let her know what's been happening."  
  
The officers stopped in front of the chanting Bajoran crewman. Gerron did not seem to be aware that his superiors were near him. He had assumed the lotus position in the doorway of his own quarters, facing the door. He was sending prayers to the Prophets to receive the souls of all the departed, but especially those from Voyager. "What shall we do about Crewman Gerron, Commander?"  
  
"Leave him be. He's not going anywhere until morning. That form of the Death Chant lasts all night. He isn't even made it to the two hour mark yet."  
  
  
**Engineering (2056)  
**  
"What's _he_ doing here?" Chell asked, when Rollins walked into Engineering.  
  
B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps you should ask him."  
  
"Maybe we should."  
  
"Maybe _you_ should. I'm waiting for the captain to talk about something that's important. And then I'd like to go home _sometime_ tonight." B'Elanna tried to control that waspish tone that had crept into her voice. She didn't want to play wild-and-crazy Klingon now, not when she had something critical to discuss. Chell's whining about Rollins wasn't something she needed at the moment.  
  
"Having dinner with Tom? Perhaps you can remind him to tell his old man that the Maquis have served this ship faithfully for nearly seven years."  
  
"I've already had my dinner tonight, thank you very much, and without my husband, I might add. He happens to be in command of the bridge this evening and couldn't get away." B'Elanna's level of tolerance was beginning to fray.  
  
"Is he? Maybe I should go up and talk to him about sending his boys down here, protecting your precious transwarp coil because they don't trust us."   
  
"Don't be ridiculous." B'Elanna's voice was no longer simply waspish; it was approaching the dangerous, "get out of my face before I blow up" stage.   
  
"Am I being ridiculous? What's Rollins doing here, if they aren't worried about security?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he and Vorik were supposed to be partners in tonight's bridge tournament," she hissed. At that moment the doors to Engineering opened, and she saw the captain arrive. Joe was there to meet her, fortunately; B'Elanna waved them to her office as she turned to look over her shoulder to fasten her gimlet gaze upon the Bolian. "Chell, why don't you take your paranoid conspiracy theories and shove them..." She shook her head. Trying to reason with her crewmate from the Freedom simply wasn't worth the effort. She moved swiftly away, towards her office.  
  
*  
  
Once B'Elanna was gone, Chell gazed up at the psychedelic twisting of the transwarp coil. At any other time, he would have been entranced by its flowing colors. Tonight, its beauty couldn't divert him from his bad mood. He was acutely aware of Rollins every second. The lieutenant was standing near the door, talking to several of the engineers. Chell turned to face him when he walked up to Chell's position. After he watched energy flows for a minute, Rollins said to Chell, "Wow! Isn't this something? It's really fascinating--and beautiful, too! God, I hope nothing happens to it! Say, Chell, have you seen Ensign Vorik?"  
  
Chell shook his head. Rollins walked to the other side of the transwarp coil and asked McKenzie the same question he'd asked Chell. He didn't know if McKenzie had given him a better answer than Chell had, but Rollins left Engineering afterwards.   
  
"Saboteurs. They're worried that someone will sabotage the transwarp coil," Chell muttered to himself. "Why else would the captain be here at this time of night?" Warily, he looked around at the other engineers at work. Maybe they suspected that was why _he_ was here. After all, he wasn't normally assigned to Engineering.  
  
  
**Chief Engineer's Office (2114)**  
  
Janeway leaned over the console in B'Elanna's office, studying the numbers. Every now and then, B'Elanna or Joe pointed out the variance they'd noticed. While this might indicate the transwarp coil wasn't running quite as smoothly as it had the first week it was in operation, nothing jumped out at her as being truly critical. Good engineers could sense discrepancies in this kind of data, and over the years, Kathryn Janeway had become a very good one. This time, she just didn't see anything wrong; but if B'Elanna and Joe were concerned, she needed to deal with their perceptions.   
  
"Do you think we should shut down transwarp so we can complete diagnostics on the entire system while it's not running?"  
  
B'Elanna shrugged her shoulders and glanced back and forth between the captain and Joe. "That's a last resort thing, Captain. If we do that, you know it would be weeks..." B'Elanna's voice trailed off, and she didn't finish her sentence.  
  
"...It could be weeks before you could get the coil up and running again," the captain finished for her chief engineer. "At this point, the system is running within the established parameters, isn't it?" When the two engineers nodded, Janeway asked, "Are you seeing an increase in the intensity or duration of these variations?"  
  
"No, Captain," Joe replied. "So far, none of the variations have lasted longer than a picosecond; and as you can see, the resonance level hasn't changed at all either. Today we had two more of those 'blips'--as Tom Paris always calls them--than we do on average, but that's the only difference. And they occur so randomly, we can't even say that constitutes an actual increase. We've had days when none at all were recorded, and on others, three have occurred. And the first one today happened 24 hours and five minutes after the last one did, so the fact we had four today might not mean anything at all."  
  
"That's why we wanted your opinion on how to proceed, Captain," B'Elanna added.  
  
Janeway strolled around the office, lost in thought, and finally decided, "Well, we only planned to run the drive for another week before shutting it down to run a series of diagnostics and system checks anyway. Let's keep it going for another day or two. If we detect any increase in the number or character of these 'blips,' we'll shut down the system. We've traveled a good long way already. I don't think one more day will hurt us--unless you do think we should switch over to regular warp right now."   
  
"No, Captain. I agree. If we see anything else unusual crop up, or those variations change in any way, we'll shut down the drive immediately." B'Elanna and the captain looked at Joe, who nodded in agreement.  
  
At that moment, Janeway rubbed her eyes and tried to stifle a yawn, but she didn't succeed. B'Elanna laughed. "I think you need to get to bed, Captain."  
  
"I think it's time for any expectant mothers to get home, too," the captain replied   
  
"I agree. And with Tom on the bridge this shift, I might actually be able to stretch out and get comfortable for a change."  
  
"I'll contact Nicoletti to let her know what we've discussed,” Joe said. “She's covering Gamma shift tonight."  
  
*  
  
B'Elanna and the captain walked out of Engineering and stepped onto the lift together. Once B'Elanna reached Deck 9 and bid the captain a good night, Kathryn had to hold onto the railing as she rode up to Deck 3. She wasn't just rubbing her eyes with her other hand; she was also massaging her forehead, trying to keep her tension headache in check. This was the third one this week. All she wanted to do was walk through her door and take a nice soothing bath. _The tension is getting to me, too,_ Kathryn thought. _Perhaps we should...No. B'Elanna and Joe are on top of things. I need to trust their good judgment. They've proven themselves to us over and over--but tomorrow, if my headache hasn't gone away, I_ will _order us out of transwarp so we can check everything out. Traveling for a few more weeks than anticipated won't make that much difference._ _The important thing is to finally get there. Home._  
  
  
**Sickbay (2118)**  
  
When Tuvok walked into Sickbay, he discovered he'd stepped into the middle of a lecture. While the Doctor was running a dermal regenerator over Lydia Anderson's chin, Renlay Sharrr was sitting on the biobed next to Anderson, holding an icebag against her cheek. The EMH was chastising them both, and Tuvok, intrigued, stopped to listen to what he had to say. Crewman Anderson was a member of his security staff. Ensign Sharr served at the conn and often manned his security and tactical station when Tuvok was short of staff.   
  
"I understand that boredom can lead to misunderstandings, even between the best of friends, but indulging yourselves in what has been called, in the past, a 'catfight,' will not make either of you feel any better. That much must be obvious, since you're here now receiving treatment from me. Scratching another person deeply enough to break the epidermal layer can lead to an infection. If left untreated, that can progress, and serious complications may ensue. In the future, please refrain from the practice..." At this point, the Doctor glanced up at his visitor. "Ah, Commander Tuvok, is there a problem?"  
  
"It would appear so, if one of my staff and a bridge officer have become involved in an altercation serious enough to merit treatment by Voyager's chief medical officer. Ms. Anderson, explain yourself."  
  
Lydia Anderson had the grace to blush, but when she didn't say anything immediately, Ensign Sharr jumped in. "It's my fault, sir. I was...staring at her. I don't know why. She asked me to stop, and for some reason, I chose not to. When she objected because I was...um...looking at her funny, she...um...she pushed me into a wall to make me stop. And I scratched her on the chin, and she..."  
  
"I slapped her, Commander. I don't know what got into me. I'm very sorry, sir. I know you'll have to relieve me of duty and confine me to quarters until an official inquiry can be held."  
  
"Surely that won't be necessary, Commander!" the Doctor cried.  
  
"I am required to report this incident in our official logs. The captain will decide upon the course of action she may wish pursue...for both participants. She will impose sanctions if she believes any are warranted."  
  
Both women cast their eyes to the floor. The Doctor took this opportunity to check the scratches on Anderson's chin and to lift the icebag away from Sharr's cheek. "Both of you are healed sufficiently for me to release you from Sickbay. Ensign Sharr, you may take the icebag with you. You should find it helpful to replicate additional ice and leave the bag on your cheek for a longer period of time. The dermal regenerator eliminated most of the contusion, but additional treatment with a cold pack should help reduce the inflammation further."  
  
"Crewman Anderson, you may retire to your quarters until your next duty shift begins in the morning. Ensign Sharr, you should also go to your quarters, but we will require your presence at the bridge Ops station during Gamma shift. I trust neither one of you will present any more problems for the rest of the evening. Or ever."   
  
"Yes, Commander," they responded in chorus. Ensign Sharr put the icebag back against her cheek as the women practically ran out of Sickbay.  
  
*  
  
As the Doctor replaced the dermal regenerator in a cabinet holding medical devices of many types, he observed, "I take it you were not aware of this particular incident before entering Sickbay, Commander."  
  
"I was not. During my review of the medical reports submitted to the Security Department by you and your staff during the past two weeks, I have noticed an increase in the number of fights, particularly during the past three days. My intention was to gain any insight you may have concerning a possible cause."  
  
"I've noticed this myself. The reason is obvious. The crew is bored. We've been without any contact with the outside for almost three weeks. The last time they had any communications with their families took place well over a month ago. This is an exciting, yet terrifying moment for the entire crew. Many are understandably anxious about what will happen when we do get home, and the waiting is more than some can stand. It's brought out the seamier side of human nature."  
  
"While your observations regarding the lack of stimulus are relevant, your statement concerning human behavior is not. Security reports indicate that non-human crewmembers have been involved in a higher percentage of disagreements. Just this evening, Commander Chakotay and I discovered Ensign Tabor, and Crewmen Jor, Gerron, and Tal Celes acting well beyond the norm for any of them, based upon the types of behavior they've previously demonstrated. Crewman Tal was weeping and said she expected to be forced to leave Starfleet for incompetence. Crewman Jor, who is a quarter Bajoran, was crying so inconsolably, Ensign Tabor was having difficulty getting her to their quarters. Crewman Gerron has been promulgating erratic theories about what will happen to the Maquis for some time, as he has been identified as a key figure involving the spread of disturbing rumors concerning those who haver previously served in the Maquis or on the Equinox. He was sitting in his doorway, providing passers-by with a rendition of a Bajoran funeral chant. And Crewman Jackson and Fitzpatrick had entered into an argument that had degenerated into a physical confrontation. I was forced to send both of them to the brig...and they have been friends...for years, since they served together in..." The security chief stopped speaking, breathed in sharply, closed his eyes, and winced visibly.  
  
"Commander," the Doctor interrupted, as Tuvok knit his brows, "are you experiencing pain?"  
  
"Negative. It is merely discomfort. I will adjust my meditation regime to ease the distraction."  
  
"What distraction?"  
  
Tuvok arched an eyebrow in surprise, "Can you not hear that sound?"  
  
The Doctor shook his head, "I'm afraid not." He paused, "Here, let me adjust my hearing." There was another pause as he reset his aural parameters, "Ah, yes. When I reconfigure my hearing to the Vulcan range, I do indeed detect a tone. How long have you been hearing it?"  
  
"It began when we entered transwarp, I have determined that it is normal for the technology and poses no security risk."  
  
The Doctor started to shake his head, "Really? Not a security risk, you say? Did it ever occur to you that it might be a health risk? No, of course not. Commander, we have never before been in a transwarp conduit for more than a few days. I will ask the captain for permission to conduct further testing, to see if any other members of the crew are being affected."  
  
"If it pleases you, Doctor. Please keep me informed of your results--and of any further altercations between crewmembers."   
  
The Doctor watched the Vulcan second officer as he walked away from the EMH and towards the Sickbay exit. He noted Tuvok's steps were slightly erratic. _Hummpf! No security risk, indeed!_ the EMH thought.   
  
When Tuvok reached the doors, they opened to reveal Ensign Vorik staggering into the Doctor's domain. Rolling his eyes, the EMH called out to the Vulcan engineer. "And what can I do for you this evening, Ensign?"  
  
"I believe I am in need of an analgesic that will be effective against persistent headaches. I do not believe I will be able to participate with Lieutenant Rollins in the bridge tournament without assistance."  
  
"And how long have you been suffering from these 'persistent headaches?' "  
  
With obvious reluctance, Vorik admitted, "They have affected me intermittently ever since the transwarp propulsion system was initiated."  
  
"And how frequent is 'intermittent?' "  
  
Vorik mumbled in response, but the Doctor was able to infer that 'intermittent' had turned out to be at least once per day, and for the past three, Vorik's headaches had been his constant companion. He sent the ensign on his way after strongly recommending the ensign forego the tournament and use his off-duty time to sleep--if possible.   
  
While his comment to Commander Tuvok about possible health hazards had actually been a little facetious as well as sarcastic, the EMH no longer considered _anything_ about this situation even remotely humorous. Fights between individuals who had been friends for years? Vulcan officers suffering from headaches about which, characteristically, they had failed to inform him until their distress could no longer be concealed? He hoped Sickbay would be quiet this evening. He needed to study this problem in greater detail.  
  
That, however, proved not to be. A slow but steady stream of patients began to arrive, complaining of anxiety, depression, headache, and earaches. During the first few days after the transwarp drive had been initiated, he'd diagnosed such complaints as psychosomatic symptoms due to stress, since so many of those coming in for treatment had come onto the ship with Commander Chakotay. The ship's imminent return to the Alpha Quadrant had not been a universally welcomed event, especially by the former crews of the Equinox and the Maquis. Now the Doctor deduced something more sinister might be the cause of the crew's ills. If the patient parade ever stopped, he could complete his research and notify the captain of his findings. While it would have been helpful if he could call in one of his field medics to help deal with the patient flow, that would not be possible tonight. Mr. Lessing was covering the entire Science Department this Beta Shift because Samantha Wildman and Tal Celes were both out sick. The Doctor had diagnosed Sam with a severe migraine, the same malady which afflicted Trish Gallagher. After providing them with analgesics, he'd sent both of his nurses to their respective quarters with orders to rest. And of course, Mr. Paris was in command of the bridge this evening.  
  
Really, this situation was not at all what Dr. Lewis Zimmerman had had in mind when he created the Emergency Medical Hologram program. Wait, possibly, it was. He simply hadn't anticipated that a single EMH would constitute the entire professional medical staff of a starship--for seven entire years.  
  
_Pity the poor holographic physician!_ The Doctor thought, as he treated Crewman Sofin and Morrow for the bruised knuckles they'd incurred during a tussle in the Mess Hall. Getting into a fight over the last serving of Mr. Neelix's Pleeka Rind casserole?! What would he hear of next? And he must remember to add this fight to the list he'd be sending to Commander Tuvok in the morning. Ensign Sharr and Crewman Anderson might not be the only ones whose names had not previously appeared on such a list, since, as recently as this afternoon, a few scratches and a reddened cheek wouldn't have seemed serious enough to report as a "fight."  
  
He couldn't wait to get back to the Alpha Quadrant himself--no matter what might happen to his precious matrix once they arrived there. This simply was not to be borne.  
  
  
**Captain Janeway's Quarters (2147)**  
  
Chakotay took a deep breath as he rang the door sensor. "Now or never," he told himself. When the door slid open he stepped in, bracing himself to ask Kathryn questions he'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to banish from his thoughts for the past few weeks--and now he had to inform her of the crazy series of events which had occurred during the past hour as well.  
  
"Hello," Kathryn called weakly from her bedroom. "Have a seat. I'll be in there in a moment."  
  
Chakotay chose to remain standing. Considering what he had to say, it would be better if he were on his feet.  
  
"Kathryn," he began as she entered the room. He stopped when he saw that she was dressed for bed, wearing a lightweight robe that was very much like one he'd seen her wear several years ago, when they were the only two people living on a planet inhabited by monkeys and some extremely nasty insects. Pushing away those memories were always difficult, but he managed to continue, saying, "I have something to tell...Kathryn, are you all right?"  
  
"Of course, I am I...no, actually, I'm not." She put her hands to the sides of her head, kneading her temples in an obvious attempt to relieve one of her recurrent tension headaches. And there were no temporal factors in play tonight for her to try and joke about them. "What...what were you saying?"  
  
He took her hand and pulled her to the chair near her desk, "Please, sit. We have issues to discuss, but while we do, I think an old-fashioned remedy might be in order."  
  
Kathryn managed a twisted little smile and allowed Chakotay to ease her down onto her desk chair. For several minutes, she gave herself over to his massage. He could feel how tight the muscles were, in her neck and down her upper spine, as his fingers, especially his thumbs, pushed strongly against them. Once he felt her begin to relax, he related the story of the fighting best friends, the crying Bajoran crewmen, and Gerron, chanting to the Prophets to save the souls of the crew as if everyone was already dead. "And all that happened within the past hour."  
  
"Oh, Chakotay, what are we going to do?" she groaned. "We've told them over and over not to spread all these rumors. I wish I knew what to tell them, but you know they haven't told me anything about what's going to happen to any of us."  
  
"Crewman Doyle asked me today if it were true that his name was on the list of those sentenced to hard labor in New Zealand."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's common knowledge, you know, that I'm to be sent to a Klingon penal colony, my officers to hard labor or worse, and the rest of the Maquis will never be free again."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Kathryn scoffed. "The Federation doesn't even utilize most of those punishments. There's not a grain of truth to any of that."  
  
"The problem is, there _is_ a grain of truth. They know you had a letter from Starfleet that talked about us. Kathryn, I can't tell them the letter sounded hopeful. Your friend made it very clear that everything is _not_ all right."  
  
Kathryn sighed and leaned back as he firmly massaged her shoulders, "I know. We haven't had contact with Starfleet in over a month. I sent a request to Admiral Paris in that last datastream, as soon as I read Dae's letter, and asked him to tell me what's really happening; that someone has to give us some answers. Obviously, I haven't heard back from him yet."   
  
Yes, it was very obvious she couldn't have heard anything more yet. He kept massaging her neck and shoulders, although by this time, the low level of lighting and the feel of her silky robe over her warm skin--which was lightly scented with the bath oil he knew she favored when she succumbed to the temptation of taking a real water bath--was almost hypnotic in its power to remind him of all that had happened, and _not_ happened, on New Earth. Despite the serious turn their conversation had taken, the muscles in her neck and shoulders had loosened considerably. At last she carefully turned her face towards him and said, "Thank you, Chakotay. I feel much better now."  
  
He stepped away from her and sat down on her couch. Kathryn remained at her desk. Picking up a PADD from its surface, she said, "Up until the day I received this letter from Dae, I would have bet my soul that you and the other Maquis were safe. I still can't believe Starfleet will throw any of you in jail. They've released most of the Maquis who were incarcerated."   
  
"Most, but not all."  
  
Kathryn sighed. "No, not all. The ones who were considered the 'ringleaders'--the ones who managed to escape the Cardassian massacres long enough for Starfleet to capture them--are still imprisoned. And it's true, the whole political situation has changed since the Dominion War. The Federation is allied with the Romulans. The Cardassian planets are devastated. But I really can't see Starfleet taking the time or trouble to prosecute the Maquis on our ship."  
  
She handed Chakotay the PADD. He turned it on, and even though he was fully aware of its contents, he read Dae's letter again before returning it to Kathryn. He shook his head, a small, rueful small on his lips. "It's funny. For almost seven years, all we've tried to do is get home. Now, when we believe we've figured out how to accomplish it, we might be sorry we did."  
  
"What do you want to do?" Kathryn asked quietly.  
  
"There's no reason to ask that, Kathryn. We'll do whatever you decide. Your duty has always been to return this crew to Earth."  
  
She sighed softly, "Yes, but what if my duty to you is greater than my duty to Starfleet?"  
  
Chakotay tried not to believe the "you" she referred to was him alone. "What are you going to do? Just stop somewhere and wait for an answer?"  
  
Kathryn's eyes snapped open in surprise. She came over to sit next to him on the couch and said, "Why not? If we drop out of transwarp, we won't have to get home until they tell us exactly what will happen to you. We've even got an excuse. B'Elanna and Joe had me down in Engineering, talking about those 'blips' they've been seeing every now and then which have been driving them crazy. We could order a shutdown to 'check things out.' And..." She stopped, unable to say anything more.  
  
"Kathryn," Chakotay chided gently as he took her by the hand, "You know that won't work. You know what you have to do."  
  
Her eyes were misty as she shook her head. "I won't let them put you in prison, Chakotay," she swore fervently. "I can't imagine going on without you."  
  
Chakotay smiled sadly. "We'll worry about that when--and if--it happens." He gently squeezed her hand as he got up to leave. "Get some rest, Kathryn. It's late. You'll want to have a clear head when you're on the bridge in the morning."  
  
****  
  
  



	7. Act 4

**Act 4-- Stardate 54848.1 (Twentieth Day Post Transwarp Conduit Formation) (0000)**  
Voyager's Bridge  
  
Harry stepped out onto the Bridge with a little less enthusiasm than he normally had. While his recent promotion had only added fuel to the fire with which he tackled his duty assignments, tonight, he wasn't feeling as confident as usual. He was worried about what would happen to Marla and the others when they returned. Even if his classmates were ahead of him promotion-wise, he'd gained much valued experience in the Delta Quadrant. He tried to cling to that fact to convince himself he'd make up the deficit in no time.  
  
Taking a seat in the captain's chair, Harry called out, in a voice that was probably too loud for the room, "Lieutenant Kim reporting for duty. Mr. Paris, you are relieved."  
  
"Acknowledged. It's all yours, Lieutenant," he said, stressing his friend's rank. Tom rose slowly from the helm, where he liked to sit whenever he could while in command. He'd nudged Ensign Brooks away a few minutes before Harry's arrival to check the readings at the helm. Indulging himself with a deep yawn and a much needed stretch before rubbing his forehead and shaking his head, Tom stepped away from the helm chair to permit Brooks to occupy it for the scant minute or two remaining for her to have the conn.  
  
Stepping closer to Harry and rolling his eyes, he added, "Not that there's much to worry about right now. Just like every day for the past couple of weeks, it's been boring. Sensors are functioning at optimal levels--which isn't saying much--and everything is ticking away like clockwork. Except for the occasional microsecond blip. Once Lora gets here, I'll remind her to be on the lookout for that."  
  
Harry smiled. "This may be boring, but it's going to get us home."  
  
Tom nodded in acceptance of Harry's logic. "Just don't fall asleep, or it might be another seven years before you get promoted again."  
  
"Very funny," Harry said. "Does your Olympic team have practice any time today?"  
  
"No, we're taking a break. With the opening ceremonies in a week, we need to rest. I hope I get some, with the way my ears keep ringing. The Doc says I have tinnitus."  
  
"I thought they found a cure for that centuries ago."  
  
"I thought they did, too, but Dr. Zimmerman must have forgotten to add it into the EMH Mark-1 program. The Doctor says he's tried everything. I just have to live with it."  
  
Ensign Jenkins stepped onto the bridge and apologized for being two minutes late for duty. Tom stepped up to the helm as she slipped into the chair to replace Ensign Brooks, who sighed with relief. "It's okay to leave, Brooksie. I'll give Lora the change-of-shift status report. If that headache gets any worse, head to Sickbay and have the Doc check you out. He'll be able to give you something stronger for it."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Brooks said. She almost ran off the bridge, pausing only to nod her head to Harry as she left. Tom turned to her replacement. "How's your head, Lora?"  
  
"Not bad, sir. I took a long nap this evening, so I'm feeling pretty good."  
  
Tom grinned. She did look a lot perkier than she had a few days ago. "OK, so pay close attention tonight, Lora. Keep our course steady. Make sure Harry is informed if you notice any more blips. We had two more today than average, so if you see any irregularities at all, inform Harry at once."  
  
"Got it. And I think you'd better go, too. Those bells ringing in your ears again?"  
  
Tom chuckled as he nodded agreement, gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, straightened up and crisply saluted her. "Aye, aye, ma'am!" Since Lora's eyes were already glued to her readouts, as Harry was glad to see, she probably didn't even notice Tom's joke. Harry was glad Lora was the one at the helm tonight. They'd worked together often; and, he had to admit, he felt more relaxed whenever she was there. Their working relationship could be described as stellar.  
  
Harry chuckled as Tom stepped up to the platform where the command chairs were and gave his friend an even snappier salute than he had Lora. Harry waved Tom off the bridge and called up the official report on the ship's status. He saw that the blips had come more frequently over the past 24 hours, as Tom had reported. "More frequently" worked out to be four, instead of two in a 24 hour period, and each were of such brief duration, they could easily be missed if the helmsman didn't pay close attention. It was possible a few hadn't been noticed in the past, and on some days they hadn't seen any, so the number didn't concern him at the moment. As they'd been present ever since the ship went into transwarp, Harry knew he needed to be aware of any that occurred on his shift; but that was about it.  
  
Harry assumed his serious, "in command" expression and settled down to what promised to be another monotonous night. Really, all he had to do was hold the fort until the captain and the commander came on duty at 0800. Everyone knew nothing ever happened on Gamma shift.  
  
  
**Sickbay (0445)**  
  
As he researched his records from the past few weeks, the Doctor noticed that a large percentage of the crew had come to Sickbay complaining of odd symptoms without any known cause: paranoia, anxiety. His theory about stress-induced psychosomatic symptoms had merit early on, when most of the complainants were former members of the Maquis and Equinox crews. Since their status with Starfleet was so uncertain, feeling anxious was a natural response. During the past three days, however, his patient load had included a substantial number of Voyager's original crew.  
  
After checking several details with Lieutenant Nicoletti, who was in charge of Engineering this shift, the Doctor had completed his investigation. From the beginning, the fact that this particular transwarp coil emitted an intermittent subsonic wave was well known. He reviewed his records, but he could not find any evidence that this was the case when the crew used the stolen transwarp coil two years before. Unfortunately, he couldn't find any evidence that it wasn't present then either. Lieutenant Nicoletti had been unable to find data to confirm or deny this was true. That time, of course, they were on the run from the Borg Queen, and as long as the coil was working, they were less concerned with running every test known to Starfleet, or the Borg, for that matter, as they were about escaping her clutches. And that coil had eventually burned out, until it was little more than a twisted hunk of mineral alloys. No postmortem investigation had been possible on that corpse. He distinctly recalled Mr. Paris saying the coil was "toast," and as much as he would have liked to disregard his chief field medic's flippant evaluation of the situation, it was undoubtedly true. He'd investigated the remains himself.  
  
He did make note of one bit of data he had failed to see documented in any of the previous reports. The Zornon shield caused lights to flicker at 400 cycles per second. Now that was a red flag! Flickering lights had long been known to trigger epileptic seizures in susceptible individuals, and Darren Pierce was one of the first members of the crew to request treatment for persistent headaches. Given Darren's history of head injury and epileptic seizures, this part of the tripartite technology could easily be the underlying cause of the many headaches and associated neurological symptoms diagnosed in the crew. "I must inform the captain!" the Doctor said aloud, his vocal subroutines echoing in the empty Sickbay.  
  
When he checked his internal chronometer, however, the Doctor realized the captain _SHOULD_ be asleep at 0455 in the morning. Reluctantly, he decided this could wait until the captain came back on duty. Interrupting the captain's sleep cycle now doesn't seem warranted _. She's so often disturbed when she's trying to sleep, when true emergencies occur. We've been running this drive for almost three weeks; Voyager doesn't appear to be in crisis. However, I will bring this to her attention first thing, once she's back in the command chair. She'll be there by the beginning of Alpha shift. That's a mere three hours away._  
  
The EMH was alone in Sickbay, without a patient in sight, and he didn't have any pressing tasks to complete at the moment. He's finished his research, all of his medical equipment was in its proper place and fully recharged. If he had a replacement medic to cover Sickbay for the next couple of hours, he could have checked if any of the holodecks were available. He'd love to polish his program so that it would be truly ready when a publisher finally decided to contact him about distributing it throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. _I wonder what's taking them so long to get back to me?_ he said to himself.  
  
Well, he couldn't leave now anyway. If his medics continued to be ill or on duty, he might have to stay here for the next few days--just like the bad old days, before his mobile emitter freed him from his holoemitter-equipped cage! Sighing audibly, the Doctor decided to view images of hirsute accoutrements. Hair styles, too. The Doctor rubbed his chin--a recent modification to his subroutines. _Perhaps a beard_ , he mused. He looked thoughtful as he considered this possibility. _Or hair? Maybe I should have hair **and** a beard_.  
  
Well, he knew he could add facial hair if necessary, but for some reason, he hadn't been able to program any on his head no matter how much he tried. Seven and B'Elanna hadn't been able to do it for him either. Perhaps a visit to Jupiter Station, to Dr. Lewis Zimmerman, would be required. _If I do go there, hat figuratively in hand, I'd better have chosen my name by then! After that letter! The nerve of that man!_  
  
The Doctor sniffed, and then he smiled. That subroutine was really working out quite well. He really must remember to thank B'Elanna for programming it for him.  
  
  
**Paris-Torres Quarters - (0506)**  
  
B'Elanna, murmuring to someone over the comm, woke Tom at 0506. He realized she was trying to keep her voice down, but that was never an easy thing for B'Elanna to do. She attacked every activity with such gusto, she was hard to miss, no matter what she was doing, even if it was only getting dressed to go to work. It was one of the things he loved about his wife, but at five in the morning, when he hadn't managed to tumble into their bed until half past midnight, Tom was a little less sanguine about his beloved acting as his alarm clock.  
  
She tried to tiptoe past the bed, but she was a little heavier on her feet these days. He thought about feigning sleep but decided it wasn't worth the effort. He had a good idea he was up for the day now, anyway. "Isn't a little early for someone to call you out of bed? Or am I supposed to jump up, too, and run to the bridge to provide evasive maneuvers?"  
  
"Just go back to sleep, Paris!" she snapped. "It doesn't have anything to do with piloting the ship!" Almost immediately, she shook her head and said contritely, "I'm sorry, Tom. You didn't deserve that."  
  
B'Elanna sat down on the edge of their bed and stroked his cheek. "You should sleep in, Tom. I woke up a while ago; and I was just lying there, tossing and turning. Then I saw Joe left me a message that he was going to go in early. So I called him to ask if something had happened. Sue relieved him at 2200. He'd come on duty early yesterday, before 1400, and Sue thought she'd let him leave early as well, too, because he probably needed his rest. It was nice of her. None of us have been sleeping well. I know I'll never get back to sleep now."  
  
"This blip thing is really getting to you."  
  
"It is. It's such a little vibration; and it just crops up every now and then; but anything that's unexplained always gets on my nerves. My whole staff's nerves, I should say. Once we figure out what it means, we'll relax. So settle in for a couple more hours of rest. I know you need to sleep more, too." She bent over and kissed her husband, and before he could even wrap his arms around her to give her a proper sendoff, she'd slipped away and swept out of the door.  
  
Tom thought about trying to go back to sleep, but...no. Even if he _had_ gotten less than five hours of sleep, he was up for the day now. He took a quick hydro-shower, since the sonic version tended to make his ears ring more than usual, and the usual was bad enough. Once dressed, he made himself peanut butter toast and treated himself to real, replicator-made coffee. He'd need the caffeine today. Besides, Neelix usually didn't show up at the Mess Hall much before 0600, and what he'd left in the carafes for the Gamma shift crew probably tasted awful by now. It was bad enough when it was fresh!  
  
He checked the chronometer as he was chucking his breakfast dishes into the recycler. It was 0545. He was fully awake now, and if he dared to contact anyone on his Olympic team to talk about the remaining practice schedule, they'd probably want to murder him. _They might even try!_ He thought ruefully. _Might as well go to the bridge to check with Jenkins, to see if any more of those blips had shown up overnight._ As he left his quarters, he smiled as he thought, _Maybe I'll tweak Harry about the sheriffs waiting to arrest him for the major crime of Library Book Abduction once we reach Earth orbit. If he's had as boring a night as usual, he might welcome a joke this morning._  
  


  
**Deck 3 Corridor (0554)**  
  
As Chakotay walked out of his quarters, he saw Kathryn stepping out of hers at exactly the same time. Although none of the other officers with quarters on this deck were near enough to hear him call to her to wait, by waving his hand as he softly called her name, he caught her attention. Kathryn turned around and remained in front of her quarters until he'd had the chance to catch up with her.  
  
"How's your head this morning?" he quietly asked.  
  
"Much better, Commander. The treatment my masseur administered did the trick. Your mother knew what she was doing when she had you give her backrubs to relieve her headaches."  
  
"Even if your masseur had to discuss some difficult issues with you?" He smiled as gently as he could, but he was deadly serious--and he could see by the sudden dampening of her smile that she knew it, too. She acknowledged his question with a shrug of her shoulders.  
  
"We'll deal with those issues once we've had an opportunity to lecture the participants. It's the tension getting to everyone, not just me. It's one reason I decided to get a head start on the day. We'll have plenty to deal with once Alpha Shift formally begins."  
  
"Agreed," he said. "Would you like to stop off at the Mess Hall first? Neelix usually arrives around now. You can get a decent cup of Java from the replicator, if you don't care for his special blend of the day."  
  
"I'd like that, but only after we've stopped off at the bridge. I..." They were just about to step into the lift when...  
  
  
**Bridge (0555)**  
  
Harry took a cursory glance at the incoming sensor data. They would be passing another nebula and a couple of Class M planets today. There seemed to be some skimpy data available to indicate that the region contained several inhabited systems, but Voyager would pass through them without ever being detected. Harry sighed. Command in transwarp was a lot like herding trees! Not much to worry about!   
  
He heard Tom laughing behind him. Harry was about to get out of the command chair to find out what the joke was when Lora Jenkins suddenly called out, "Lieutenant! We've just recorded another of those blips...and another! No, three in a row! And each one's stronger than the last!"  
  
Rising from the chair became a moot point when the inertial dampers sputtered for a split second. He flew out of the chair and rolled several times toward the helm until, by grabbing the railing, he was able to keep from rolling any further. "Report!" he shouted, but the others on the bridge were also fighting the variable forces tossing them about.  
  
Lieutenant Ayala had pulled himself up off the floor after somehow managing to maintain his position at the security station. "Internal sensors are haywire. Massive failure in secondary systems. Communication is down." Harry glanced forward.  
  
"Get us external sensors." The screen flickered to life, revealing normal, but slowly rotating stars outside. The ship must have gone into a slow spin. The blue-green dot, large and growing larger with every second, held Harry's attention. "Helm!"  
  
"We've fallen out of the transwarp conduit! I have no control!" Jenkins yelled.  
  
Harry saw Tom crawl past him and reach out for the helm chair support.  
  
"Reengage the dampers!" Tom shouted as he tried to take control of the helm from Lora.  
  
"The problem isn't with the dampers! I don't know what's gone wrong!"  
  
Tom was kneeling in front of the helm, holding onto the chair's support leg with his left hand to keep himself from flying to another side of the bridge.  
  
"We've definitely out of transwarp," Tom called to Harry. "From the way the ship's shaking, I'd say we have hull breaches on the port or starboard sides. Maybe both." Tom glanced up at Jenkins. "It's going to take both of us to get this under control. See if you can get the thrusters online."  
  
What had started out as a relatively small blue-green dot on the viewscreen had grown in size until it filled half the screen.  
  
As she desperately hung onto the helm's arm rests, Ensign Jenkins' face was growing paler by the second. By now, it was almost as white as Tom's.  
  
Having regained his seat, Harry was sitting straight in his chair, trying to ignore the rapidly approaching planet. "Tom?"  
  
"We'll be lucky to keep Voyager from corkscrewing wildly." Tom swore again as Voyager started to shake even harder. "There's not enough power to break Voyager free from the planet's gravitational pull."  
  
Harry took in that piece of information. "Have we got any directional control?"  
  
"Who knows?" Tom answered, with a level of frustration in his voice Harry had seldom heard from the normally unflappable pilot. Harry glanced at the gibberish on the console.  
  
"If we can't break free," Harry said, with a calm he did not feel, "There’s only one choice. Go to blue-alert."  
  
"Harry!" Tom didn't turn around. "Are you nuts?"  
  
"Got any better ideas?"  
  
"No!" The planet now filled the entire view screen. Tom motioned Jenkins away. "No. You're right. Blue alert. Beginning landing sequence." Harry barely heard Tom's whispered "I hope."  
  



	8. Epilogue

  
**Epilogue**  
  
B'Elanna tried to sit up from where she lay on the floor, taking care to avoid the gaping cracks where the deck had buckled. She braced herself when the ship lurched yet again. "Report!"  
  
Carey picked himself up and ran over to her, a mediwand in his hand. She realized he had broken open one of the emergency storage units. "Are you okay, Lieutenant?" He quickly scanned her, even as she tried to shove the offending instrument away.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I don't know. The transwarp coil failed, dumping us back into normal space." He glanced around, then helped her to her feet. "The baby checks out all right." She thanked him quietly, then let him get back to his report. "We're still cataloging which systems are down, but all propulsion systems are out. The port external sensors and environmental controls are still working. Communication is down."  
  
"Hey, Lieutenant!" Susan called out from somewhere. The haze was thickening. "We’re stabilizing somewhat – can’t confirm until the comm system is back online, but it seems like Helm has regained some control."  
  
"Good. Let's do all we can to help them. Give them thrusters. Joe, get over there and help her." She glanced at the blank computer screen. "Send a runner to the bridge. We need to know what's happening." She grabbed the console when the ship lurched again. "And we have massive structural damage somewhere. My guess is there's a hull breach on the starboard side. Probably deck 12 or lower." She tried another computer; this one was still working. The lights flickered, went out, then returned at 50% intensity.  
  
"Lieutenant!"  
  
B'Elanna growled silently at Nozawa's approach. They didn't need another problem, although who would notice at this point? "What?"  
  
"It looks like the landing thrusters have been activated."  
  
She stared at him, in shock. _Just who was on the bridge? Some maniac?_ "Is there a planet around?"  
  
"The last sensor sweep indicated a planet was in this vicinity," Nozawa replied. As he finished, the ship began to shake again.  
  
" _Qu'vatlh._ " She bit her lip. "Okay, everybody listen up." She listed what needed to be done. Six people dashed toward the controls. "Initiate the abbreviated landing procedures now." She ignored the silence as she began implementing the dozens of standard procedures for landing.  
  
"If this keeps up," she heard Carlson say, "we're going to shake apart!" Indeed, the ship's shaking had increased again. Then there was a new vibration.  
  
_We've entered the atmosphere,_ she said to herself, and barked out more orders, "I want three engineering teams standing by as soon as we land. And prepare for impact..." She had no idea how long it would before they hit.  
  
*  
  
The lift doors closed behind the command team just after they managed to throw themselves inside.  
  
"Chakotay, what's going on?!" The lift was vibrating alarmingly. Another boom, and the sounds of the ship changed radically. "Do you hear that?"  
  
"They've shut the warp coil off. Wait...Who's on the bridge?" The transwarp had shut down, but the new noise made no sense.  
  
"Harry," she whispered as she tapped her combadge with one hand while trying to cling to the lift railing with the other. "Janeway to bridge." There was no response, again. He reached out to help her hold onto the railing. "I know he'll make the right decisions, but I need to know what's happening!" She tried the combadge again.  
  
"Kathryn." He was stuck for something to say. Reassurance wasn't what they needed--she wanted information on what had happened. He listened carefully to a new noise. It had been several years since the last time the landing thrusters had been activated, but there was no mistaking their distinctive oscillating hum.   
  
Chakotay gritted his teeth. He understood her frustration, sitting here blind, being shaken almost to death, and only able to guess at what was happening, although both of them knew they were landing on an unknown planet. Spirits! He hoped Tom was at the helm.  
  
He had to let go of her wrist and grasp the railing as tightly as he could with both hands when the ship started to shake even more violently.  
  
*  
  
Harry gripped the arms of the chair. "Helm?"  
  
"Beginning the countdown. Thrusters engaged." There were several seconds of silence. "We're decelerating." Harry took a deep breath at those words. The ship was still racing, much too fast, first over a large body of water, then a snow-capped mountain range. Now he could see the large prairie where Tom was aiming to land. At the two minute mark, they could distinguish trees.  
  
At the one minute mark, a herd of an antelope-like animals bolted from underneath them.  
  
At thirty seconds, Harry started to pray. Were they coming in too fast?   
  
The grassy ground was rising to meet them, too soon, too soon.  
  
"We've got fifteen seconds at most, Harry!" Tom yelled.   
  
"All hands brace for impact! Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three..."  


*****To Be Continued*****

**Author's Note:**

> Season Finale! Well, it was when we first posted the series back in 2001. Now you'll only have to wait for several days to read "New Hope," by Penny and Andra Marie: 
> 
> Voyager's crew must pick up the pieces after a disastrous end to their first transwarp venture.


End file.
